


TaskMaster

by Panikos



Category: Greg Davies - Fandom, Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Drama, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 76,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panikos/pseuds/Panikos
Summary: After being invited to be a human lie detector for a show, an unexpected flirtation makes itself known
Relationships: Greg Davies/OFC
Comments: 40
Kudos: 47





	1. WILTY

"I once woke up with both of my eyes filled with blood." Oh shit this story. It's so short? How do I even explain this? I literally woke up with my eyes full of blood it was so simple.   
"Were you possessed by a demon at the time?" Greg asks me, causing just about everyone to begin laughing.  
"Oh Gregory, I am a demon in and of myself." I mutter quietly to myself instead of loud enough for everyone to hear. "It is a distinct possibility, but not a likely one in this case." I answer him. The one thing about me and shows like this is that I'm not actually that great at being witty in a funny or creative way. I'm a sarcastic person but I've never been good at it in these situations, which makes every part of being here that much harder. Being opposite Greg only makes my nerves that much worse, and on top of that we're surrounded by his friends. I only just got the opportunity to come here, then everything got very big very fast and I got pulled into the British comedy crew they have. It was a big dream for me, but it really doesn't make any sense because I'm not a comedian.   
"So you woke up. Blood in your eyes. Were you in hospital? Did you get injured? This is a COMEDY show Rob!" Mitchell chastises Rob Brydon, the host of the show we're on. I glance at Greg again before dropping my gaze down to the desk in front of me. Yeah honestly I'm surprised you chose this as an option for me to tell. It's not a bad story or anything just a weird one.   
"Were you injured when this happened or was it devign intervention?" Jon asks me, eliciting an eruption of giggles from the audience. It would be funny if it were either of those.   
"I uh....." I laugh and stop speaking to get ahold of myself. "I used to get really bad bloody noses? And I had fallen asleep with my head tilted back?" Something that I still don't really understand because that's a very uncomfortable position to sleep in. It's obvious that Mitchell doesn't believe the story, but the other two just look a bit disgusted, a fact that makes me feel sick. I finally get to meet and interact with people that I used to love to watch and I make them think I'm disgusting and weird.   
"You fell asleep upside down?" Mitchell asks. I laugh and shake my head.   
"Not in this scenario, no. Just tilted back. I woke up and felt that my eyes had......something in them? I smelled the blood and figured it was blood but I wasn't sure until I reached up and touched it. I scared the shit out of my father, though, because I needed to get it out of my eyes before getting up. He thought my eyes were missing." The audience bursts into laughter with this sentence. I've lost my confidence by now and can't bring myself to look the other team at all just out of embarrassment.   
"How did you drown in your own blood? Presumably you're tilting your head back the blood should have gone back up your nose and into your throat before it went to your eyes. Are you sure you were crying blood?" Mitchell asks very sarcastically, as is his typical tone when questioning people. I narrow my eyes and look at him confused. He's being 'serious' with this question and most likely trying to poke holes in the logic of the story.   
"Look, let's not focus on technicalities here, Mitchell, I'm no Ornithologist-" The sentence gets cut off with everyone laughing. The ornithologist thing is something I have been saying for a years that started with an ex that caught on and annoys the hell out of me but amuses or confuses everyone else that hears it.   
"Do you snore?" Lee, my team captain asks me through the laughter. What? I frown at him and laugh.   
"Uh.....why? Married man?" I don't actually think he's coming onto me, but it's a defense I have when I'm nervous around confident people, it's flirting or being aggressive and slightly bitchy. It's not intentional, but in this country it seems to work pretty well. Lee, the most confident person out of anyone here, raises his eyebrows at me when I ask my question and then hesitates for comedic affect and looks awkward. Good. My team or not, I don't particularly like you.   
"Do you snore?" He asks me again. I continue with my genuine confusion.   
"I....don't know? Sometimes?" It isn't something that embarrasses me but I genuinely don't know if I regularly snore. I do when I'm sick and when I'm exhausted.   
"I only because when you snore your tongue is in the back of your throat am I not wrong? Wouldn't that stop you from drowning in the blood?" He explains. Oh. You're not a complete idiot.   
"Hey hey hey you heard the girl, she's no orthographer." Jon shoots back. I laugh at the mispronunciation.   
"What in the fuck is an Ornithologist?" Greg asks, making me laugh even harder. Good, distraction.   
"It's the study of......birds." I answer. Birds or trees, I never remember which it is.   
"What the fuck do bird have to your eyes? Are you part bird?" He asks me with a grin. I raise an eyebrow at him challengingly.   
"I mean isn't that how you refer to women here? Birds?" I ask. They did in the seventies from what I remember. Not remember, but heard. Greg looks taken aback and impressed by this question, which goes straight to my soul and makes me have to look away from him again. He's considerably older than me and having a crush on someone like him is embarrassing in and of itself, but it always feels good to have an upper hand by shocking them in knowing something about their generation. The crowd ooos at my verbal punch, making Greg look at them with a knowing look.   
"Back to the original LIE." Mitchell says after a few long seconds of laughter and me and Greg trading looks with each other. I don't know and haven't been able to tell through the whole night if he is flirting with me or not and it's killing me not knowing. "What are we saying this is? Do you really believe this?" He ask his team. I look all three in the eyes daring them to answer the question.   
"I could go either way on this one. You seem like the type of person weird stuff happens to all the time." Jon answers while sort of glaring at me with narrowed eyes. He isn't glaring or angry he's just very suspicious of me. He glares at everyone like this on our team when we talk, mostly just to throw us off from what it feels like. He's not a complete prick, it's actually amusing to me.   
"Greg?" Mitchell asks. He looks at me seriously now and I give him another challenging look while fighting the urge to look away.   
"I'm with Jon. It sounds like horse shit but weird things seem to happen to the Bird." He teases me and I actually feel like I've been struck my lightning when he calls me a bird. I swear if you're fucking with me I'm just going to never leave my apartment again. You're flirting aren't you?   
"You're saying truth?" Rob asks them. The three of them look at each other and shrug before nodding at Rob. "Was it the truth? Or were you lying?" He asks me. I smile at them and tilt my head to congratulate them.   
"It was the truth." I say as I press the corresponding button to reflect the answer.   
"You heard it, folks, the Bird woke up with her eyes filled with blood. That's all we have time for tonight. Join us next time on Would I Lie To You. Good night!" Rob does his good night speech and the audience starts to cheer very loud. So what now? We weren't really walked through what to do when the show is over. Do we sit and wait or can we go? I would love to go back home and relax for awhile, fuck.   
I've been out all day doing different things with different people in this group. they wanted to welcome me to their world with open arms, the whole group was suggested by Rob, who's been sweet on me since we met a few months ago. he's the one that's helped me get my visa to come here, and expedited it so I could live here. I'm not a citizen as of yet, but he's helping me get to that position. Rob is super nice, but intimidating to me just because of his looks in that he looks like a very serious person. I doubt I will ever be able to come to terms with the fact that he's a comedian and a really laid back person. He reached out to me after having read my book series and we became quick friends. At first we just texted back and forth, about a month after that he invited me to come to Britain. I hated the country I was in originally and always wanted to live here, but never had the money to come visit, and I have a very hard time doing things like this alone. It took a lot of talking into it but he convinced me that he wouldn't kidnap and sell me if I came, he put me in a hotel and walked me around places.   
He introduced me to a few of the people here tonight when I came back about a half month after coming back from the trip. Nothing had ever clicked with me as hard as the UK did when I visited the first time. I fell in love, and I was very depressed when I went back home. I dropped everything and since I finally had some money from my series getting off the ground, I could afford it and I came back without hesitation. My first visit I applied for temporary citizenship, and since Rob is who he is it got approved pretty quickly. In a lot of ways, he's my best friend. When I came back I got very lucky and found an apartment that suited my needs, and Rob helped me make friends and get settled. He introduced me to a few people here with us tonight, them being Jon, Mitchell, and a few others that aren't here tonight. They're all really nice for the most part, and our personalities clash but mix really well. Even Mitchell.


	2. The Walk

"Will you be joining us for drinks tonight, Charlie?" Rob asks me once we're back in the quieter staff area behind the studio. I am leaning against the wall with my bag in my hands waiting for the best time to take my leave when he asks me this question. Greg, Mitchell, Jon, and Lee are all with him looking at me expectantly. It occurs to me that this is a very male-oriented group of people, which I actually prefer. I don't hate women or anything, I love women and respect them, but I I'm terrible being around them. I don't know why since I'm one myself.   
"Uh......." I shrink seeing all of them looking at me, glancing at Greg for the childish reason of wanting to know if he's wanting me to go. I'm tired from everything we've done today already. Rob, me, Greg and Mitchell went to lunch and hung out walking around for a few hours before coming here and preparing for the show. It doesn't sound like a lot, but for me it really really is. I'm truly exhausted. But the idea of spending more time with them, and possibly Greg, entices me enough to nod my head. "Sure. If that's alright?" I ask them all. The fake confidence that I'd been showing in the studio is completely gone and replaced with shyness. I'm quiet and very awkward as a person. Rob grins at me and nods, the others all agree with his happiness. I hope it's actually okay with them. I don't want to get in the way.   
"It's settled, then, let's go." Rob says cheerfully. I resign to following behind the group of men as we all walk out of the building through a back exit onto the street. Greg tries holding the door for me but I awkwardly shake my head. Something I hate is having people behind me. Which makes me very rude in situations like this where doors are being held. I can't stand people following behind me.   
"Sorry, just.....uh......." I step back and nod for him to exit first.   
"She's not a leader, Gregory." Rob says with a smirk. He's vaguely aware of my issues, but I ever really told him the exact issue with me and why I hate it. He jut understands and works around it as much as he can. Greg looks very confused by this, which makes me feel sick again.   
"I-I'm really sorry just uh- I-I'm sorry." He nods and decides to hold the door from the outside instead of the inside.   
"You've nothing to apologize for, Bird." He teases cheerfully. Gods thank you for being nice about it, I hate doing this. I hate doing this more than anything, it's so stupid. I wish I could just get over it.   
"Thanks." I say nervously.   
The rest of the walk to the bar, or pub, we're going to is pretty nice in that it's quiet for me. Rob and the other guys aside from Jon, are all joking and being rowdy with each other, but me and Jon are hanging back being quiet. Jon is exactly what he seems to be, quiet and nerdy, and uptight. He's another one I don't really understand being a comedian considering his personality, but I love his awkward humor because it's easily relatable to me in a lot of ways. We haven't really spoke a lot, though. We're friendly with each other but not friends by my definition. Lee isn't one that I actually care to be around at all, but that's just because he gives me a really weird feeling when he's around me. Not creepy or anything, just uncomfortable. I tilt my head back with my eyes closed to breathe in the air and try to relax myself as much as possible. It's freezing cold and cloudy as is typical for this country and that's one of many reasons I love it. The air is sharp, and yeah it smells pretty bad because cities typically do, but beneath all that it just smells and feels nice.   
"Pints for everyone, please." Rob says once we've all sat down at a table in the back corner of a pub.   
It's not overly quiet, and it's pretty crowded, but most of the people are standing by the bar or in front of televisions yelling about whatever sport is currently playing. Crowded places. Another thing that fucks with me. I'm immediately uncomfortable and very anxious straight until we get the table in the corner, which I sit at first, putting myself in the corner-most seat. Fuck this I should have gone home I should have gone the fuck home. Damn you Gregory for existing. It takes a few seconds for the others to push through the crowd and join me at the table, Rob taking the seat directly to my right. Lee sits on his other side, Jon and Greg take the seats opposite us. Alcohol, shit tons of people, surrounded by guys, this was a mistake. I should not have come here I am a moron. The guys all start joking around with each other as they always do while I take as much time as I can to calm back down. There's hasn't been a moment of today that I haven't been anxious or stressed out and this place is only making that a hundred times worse. On top of that I'm tired. All I want to do is go home and lay in bed for a few hours. The conversation is impossible for me to follow while staying calm, but I pretend to be listening to them and smile along to make them think I'm paying attention.   
I came here to spend more time around Greg and now I look like a moron. A RUDE moron at that. Or a scared kid. That's.....fuck I think I'd rather he see me as rude than see me as a kid. I try my hardest not to stare at him while they all talk, but every time I look up at him just to look at him he either is already looking at me, or catches me looking at him. After awhile I give up and just close my eyes so I can breathe while tuning the room around me out at much as possible. It's okay. It's just a bar, they're all just here to have fun. No one here is going to fuck with you, you're fine. It's okay. You can leave anytime you want. If you want to go home, go home, they'll understand. They're adults, they aren't stupid. But I might not ever get this chance again. I can't risk......What? Not seeing Greg again? Are you that pathetic? Yeah. I think I Really am. It's stupid but I really don't want to waste the chance, he's so cool. If he's a good man he'll understand you wanting to leave. Gods I want to leave. But even if he's a good man he'll think me weird, rude. He may genuinely see me as a scared kid. Might be for the best then. You wanna go home, right? Or do you want to stay here and have a panic attack? Home. Home it the best option.   
"Hey I'm......I'm really sorry I'm gonna head home." I tell Rob quietly. It feels like it's been a lifetime since we got here. Rob looks at me with a bit of concern but nods his head.   
"Let me walk you home-"   
"No no it's fine I'm fine, it's just a few blocks away." I interrupt.   
"I'll walk her home, I need to be getting home, myself." Greg offers. I look at him with what I feel is terror before forcing myself to relax and shake my head again.   
"It-it's fine you don't have to do that. I'm really sorry-"   
"Shut up. I'm walking you home. Have a good night, guys." So.....that's happening I guess. Is this real? Am I imagining things? You're not actually walking me home, are you? I follow him out of the pub quickly, only breathing in some fresh air once we're back outside. "You don't like crowds, do you?" he asks upon seeing my relief being in a place that's not completely full of people.   
"I'm sorry, no I really don't. Didn't.....ruin it did I?" I ask him awkwardly. We're still just standing outside instead of walking anywhere, but he smiles at me.   
"Not at all. You're keeping them honest, this lot needs that. Where do you live?" He asks me. Right. It's cold, you wanna go home. Fuck. I flinch into his question.   
"Uh.......that way. You don't have to walk me home, I can handle it if you just wanna go home." I offer. no one ever walked me home before, not that it's a right of passage or anything, I get rides home a lot but not walks. this is mostly because I don't have many friends, and the friends I have hang out away from the apartment I live in. Still, being walked home is a very odd feeling.   
"Fuck off I said I'm walking you home. You kids have no idea what chivalry is I swear." He mock complains. I roll my eyes at him as we begin towards my apartment building.   
"Ah yes, the concept of being polite is completely past the younglings nowadays. All we do is beep our phones and emoji our words." I tease. "Next you're going to say Thomas Edison was a witch." He lets out a laugh that's loud enough to bellow through the street. I love his laugh. He has a fucking amazing laugh. "So you uh........you were really a teacher?" I ask him. It's a subject that I both find hard and easy to see in him. He laughs again.   
"Yes. The dark years." He answers cryptically. The dark years. "I can tell you're the kid that sucked up to the teacher, weren't you? Teacher's pet?" He asks. For a moment it sounds like he's being suggestive, and this clouds my mind for a few seconds.   
"Uh.......no. I was the kid that.......corrected them?" I say questioningly, making him laugh again. "Can't believe you, though, honestly. If any of my teachers became famous I'd be pissed." Another bellowing laugh from him.   
"Why's that? Want us all to suffer in hell? Were you a gym teacher kid?" He asks. My turn to laugh.   
"My gym teacher was afraid of me, Gregory." I respond smugly. this is true. When I was in school, before I transferred high schools, I was the kid that everyone thought would shoot the place up. Not because of me saying it or being violent, but because people bullied me constantly. For a very long time I was the quiet raging kid that glared until they shut up. There's a very long story behind that that can be summed up with me being conditioned into being scary-looking so people would leave me alone.   
"Greg." He says with a smile. I shrug.   
"Gregory. Anyone that's a foot and a half taller than me gets called by their full name." I argue. He scoffs at this but doesn't argue. I'm five three while he is six eight, just shy of a full foot an a half taller, but enough that I am obligated to hate him.   
"Alright then, Bird." He retorts. Bird. That's the nick name you're giving me, isn't it? I'm just fine with that. "Rob has taken a liking to you, how did the two of you meet?" He asks. We're walking pretty slowly and on my end it's intentional but I'm unsure if it is on his end, too.   
"He........sought me out. Just started talking to me online and it went from there. He's......kind. How'd you meet?" I ask him.   
"Oh the same all of us British Comedians meet, by being invited to his show. Has he gotten over himself and asked you out, yet?" He asks me. My stomach drops. Oh. You're trying to set us up. Great. I deflate, all the excitement from him offering to walk me home draining and being replaced with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."   
"No you didn't. Rob is a friend and I intend for him to stay that way. If you're trying to set us up you can stop." I mutter. This is something I told Rob awhile ago. I'm not leading him on, I'm not using him, we're friends and that's how I want to stay. He was awesome about it and hasn't bothered trying to take it past the friendship we have since I laid that out.   
"That's not at all what I was doing. I am no one's wing man, but I like to know when I need to back off of a woman." He says. Wait. What?   
"Bro code. That's something that hasn't changed with time. Fuckin bro code." I mutter with a small laugh. "I told him awhile ago it wouldn't go past friendship, he took it better than most guys do." Most guys are dicks about it in one way or another. They either lash out instantly or just ghost. It's annoying. "Sorry, the......the whole....relationship thing is fucked, I'm bad at approaching the subject. Sorry." I offer him. My entire body feels like it's cringing inside and out.   
"Don't be sorry. You're more outspoken and straightforward than most women I know. Am I to take this as you're not open to something?" He asks me. My curiosity is piqued with this question and I have to take a few moments to breathe before answering.   
"I don't seek it out but I'm open to it. You?" I ask in return awkwardly.   
"I gave up on romance years ago. But I enjoy relationships if they make themselves available." The story he's eluding to is one I find hilarious. Makes me smirk when he says it and I nod.   
"Mmm, yeah that's a good way to put it I guess. You live nearby? I figured you'd have lived kind of outer city, you seem outer city kind of guy." I ask him after a bit of very awkward quiet.   
"I do." He answers. So how were you getting home?   
"How are you getting home? Wait......you were driven with Lee weren't you? You'll just go back and get the ride I'm a moron sorry ignore me." I say all of this very quickly and focus my eyes down at the ground.   
"I was hoping you'd invite me in for a drink." He says cheekily, making me look at him with widened eyes. He laughs. "I'm joking. That would be rude of me. I was going to get a cab home after I made sure you were okay." I frown.   
"Okay?" I ask.   
"It doesn't take an ornithologist to see you were bothered at the pub. Beautiful women shouldn't feel that terrible on their own. Called me old fashioned." I smile at him and shake my head.   
"Okay Old Fashioned. You don't have to worry about the bird, she is perfectly capable of handling her own shit." It comes out a bit hostile, but it's intention is to be funny. "Sorry that was funny not bitchy."   
"Don't apologize. I'm well aware you're capable of handling shit, that doesn't mean you shouldn't be alone if you're upset." He argues. Right. Somehow the polite nature of you pisses me off. I hate people thinking I need help, I don't. I WANT to alone if I'm having a panic attack or if I'm bothered, it's easier that way. "I'm sorry if that's too forward." He offers teasingly. It breaks the tension enough for me to force an awkward laugh.   
"You're fine. Thanks. Thank you." I shake my head. "On a less serious note, you went from being......what? I can see you being either an asshole teacher or a great teacher. Not enough of a control freak to be a prick, but they were the dark years....." He raises an eyebrow at me waiting for me to make my decision about him. "What.....what's the show you host?" I ask him. He gives me a very confused look before answering.   
"Taskmaster." He answers.   
"Taskmaster............." I nod and look down again. "You were probably the fun teacher. You're too nice and funny not to have been the fun teacher." I decide with a nod. I've been fighting with that argument all night since I found out but it seems likely that he would be a cool teacher considering he's a cool person.   
"You believe I was the good teacher?" He asks sounding surprised. I shrug.   
"You're a funny person, and despite being kind of arrogant you're really.....nice?" I stop there out of embarrassment and try very hard to stop cringing. I am talking way too much. I'm being stupid, why am I being stupid? I was being so smart until now.   
"Thank you, love, you're far too kind." His words instantly make me heat up in embarrassment. Gods no I am not.   
"Careful Gregory, I am far too tempted to kick your ass." I warn playfully. It's hard to hold a serious tone when you're tired, and I've gotten to the point where I don't want to be serious anymore. Especially not with Greg here right now.   
"Love you're barely tall enough to land a good bollocks punch." He argues.   
"Ah but the very reason you're using against me is the reason I'm going to be able to kick your ass." I shoot back. It's great, truly great, hearing him laugh again.   
"If I got off one good hit on you I would kill you." He argues, making me laugh again. More giggle than laugh. "You really believe you would beat me?" He asks. I nod. "Why do you want to?" Oof, that question.   
"I am five three, you're six eight. I'm obligated to want to kick your ass, it's the law." I answer. "And you're way too nice to actually beat me up so I'm really not worried about you winning." I tease, knowing fully that I'm right. Men, nice men, don't actually like fighting women that much.   
"It's the law?" He asks me, now taking on a flirtatious tone again.   
"Yup. Short people are legally obligated to hate tall people. AND date them." I cringe at the last bit but it slips out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop it. Gods why did I say that?   
"AND date them. Are you implying that you want to beat me up and then take advantage of me? If you're not carful a man could think one of two things about that." He warns with a sly smile that turns my stomach nervously. Turns it in a good way not a bad way. Yeah either I'm kinky as fuck or abusive. Neither of which are things you need to know. Gods if you thought I was abusive? I'm not, I swear. Kinky a LITTLE but not.....please don't think I'm abusive. "Or are you implying that you want to beat me up WHILE taking advantage of me?" He continues after a few seconds. The thought actually does turn me on quite a lot but I'd never admit that to anyone. It's weird.   
"Kinky. I'm afraid the only way you'll ever get the answer to that is trying your luck. But again, you're way too nice to fight me so I guess you'll just have to settle for dreaming about it." Finally, something that isn't completely stupid.   
"And dream I will, Bird." He retorts with a smile, making me, again, have to hide the excitement as much as possible. I can't tell. I really can't tell if you're hitting on me or not. "Is that why I keep catching you eyeing me all night? You're sizing me up to plan your attack?" He asks teasingly. I laugh again, though I hate that he knows I've been staring. I was trying to hide it. I did terribly, fuck. I'm terrible.   
"Uh...." I shake my head to come back to reality and think of an answer. "Gods I'm sorry. No not at all. Sorry I really...didn't think it was that much." I try hard to sound confident but I don't in any way. Creepy. He thinks I'm creepy now gods I'm such a stupid fuck.   
"Mmmm sure. Not that you'd admit it if you WERE plotting your attack against me. I'm sure you'd want to catch me off guard because if I saw you comin I would need only to hold my hand against your head to keep you away from me." He sounds a bit distant now but he's still smiling. I look at him, a bit worried about him knowing by now how attracted to him I am. "Or do you think you would fell my infallible defense?" He asks. I can't stop the smile creeping across my face at the question.   
"How do you want me to answer that question?" I ask him. There's a few ways I can.   
"What do you mean?" He returns.   
"I mean there are a few ways I can answer that question depending on what you're trying to get out of me. Honest answer, sexual answer, funny answer....." I trail off when he narrows his eyes at me obvious fighting a smile.   
"I'm inclined to ask for all the answers." He says, though it's obvious in his tone he wants the sexual answer. I nod my head once and look ahead of us at the street again.   
"Well you make a mistake in underestimation because you're a fuckin giant. Being big doesn't make you good, it just makes you intimidating to people. Put his hand on my head? I mean...weak. Step back, push up, drop myself, there's a fuck tone of ways out of that, hell your arm is what? Three feet long? You're six eight, arms length is about half that ISH, I could just kick you in the balls if I want to."   
"Jesus Christ were you a martial arts prodigy in America?" He asks me with widened eyes, though it's obviously not a serious question. "Alright, give me the sexual answer." He orders. I instantly look away from him again. Shit. I'm really bad at this. The.....sex shit.   
"Hand on head, you're a guy, do the math." I say quickly. If I do this I can't be this shy about it. The last thing I want him to think is that I'm a scared kid. I look at him and raise an eyebrow challengingly before tilting my head. "And THAT could go a few ways, too, depending on your comfort level." Please take the at face value and leave it, I've not the confidence to keep this up like this. At this point I'm extremely nervous and turned on, all mixed with the fact that I'm already exhausted is making this conversation very hard. The silence that follows this is something that feels both long and heavy. Gods I shouldn't have said that, he thinks I'm a freak now. I'm really not. I know a lot about sex but I don't DO a lot I promise I won't tie you up and whip you I'm not that kind of person - not that that kind of person is BAD inherently but it might not be your thing and it isn't mine I'm submissive and pretty vanilla I'm too shy to do anything about my sexual bullshit gods shut up brain shut up shut up. "I feel like I've made you uncomfortable, if I did I'm sorry." I blurt after what feels like an eternity, but in reality it's only half a block. We're about a block away from my apartment now. He laughs.   
"You surprise me. Don't apologize for answering a question I asked, I'm worried I've made YOU uncomfortable. Creepy old man demanding you tell him your sexual antics." I laugh at this.   
"You're not creepy OR old, you just think you are. Creepy old guys are the ones that stand too close, breathe on you, and ask like......hey little girl what's that lump on your chest? Is that a boob? What's a boob? And then they touch you and get mad when you freak out. YOU are not a creepy old man. Gods no." I shake my head and we're both laughing by now. I hate creepy people, but I have a way of knowing which person in a room is going to be The Creep, and typically I'm halfway decent at making them leave me alone if they decide to target me. But they piss me off constantly. "Sexual antics. THAT might make you kind of old." I tease, making him let out another laugh.   
"No that makes me English, Dirty American." He shoots back feigning offense. I roll my eyes.   
"Not in a few months. Dirty English....man....." I narrow my eyes and smile at him with this.   
"You're becoming a citizen? I thought you'd only been visiting." I nod.   
"Yeah I got my temporary visa approved yesterday, it's why Rob was so keen on today being what it was. So you can only call me Dirty American for a few months if I get citizenship." I answer arrogantly. It's the one thing I am truly proud of myself for. It's the only thing in my life that's really felt so perfect for me.   
"Darling if you live here the rest of your life you'll always be a dirty American." He teases. "Or just plain fuckin dirty." He tilts his head challengingly at me when I raise my eyebrows at him. You're hitting on me for real, wow. I didn't think you'd ever go for that. I look back down at my feet when a smile forces it's way onto my face. Dirty. Dirty mind but not dirty in THAT way. "Have you been trying to become a citizen for a long time?" The change in subject is a bit jarring, but comes as a mild relief.   
"I....wanted to for a long time but never knew how? I only finally got the chance a few months ago." I answer quietly.   
"Your books got you the chance? Oh the money, wasn't it?" He asks. I shrug.   
"That and it's not really clear how to travel internationally. Rob, the absolute mad man fronted me the money to visit and helped with the travel visa, which was really sketch for me." It was. Rob had approached me a few months after my books were released because he enjoyed them and wanted to interview me about them. They'd gotten pretty popular but not to the point that they are now, I still hadn't gotten anywhere near enough money to come here until Rob.   
"He paid for it?" Greg sounds quite surprised by this.   
"Just for the initial visit." I answer. And I'm paying him back. I've PAID him back.   
"I would never be that kind to another person I barely knew. How was it sketchy?" He asks. How don't you know the answer to that?   
"Uh....girl? Girl being invited to foreign country alone with guy? A random dude befriended me and then basically begged me to let him pay for the trip here, I almost blocked him on the spot for that." I answer a bit aggressively. The initial offer made me extremely uncomfortable and I didn't talk to him for a few days after because I was so disconcerted by it. Of course he didn't realize how creepy it was until I stopped talking to him, then he apologized profusely and managed to convince me to let him front me the money for it. It took a LOT of convincing, though. "Uhm......terrible request and I'm sorry to ask, but don't tell anyone about that? Enough people already think we're secret lovers, the last thing we need is fuel for the fire." He looks at me with a bit of worry and nods.   
"Of course, I've no one to tell about this that would really care. May I ask why you're not returning the fancy of him? A man that does all that must have some good qualities." I shrug and sigh.   
"Just because someone makes a grand gesture doesn't obligate the other party to owe them romance or sex. He's my best friend but I wasn't ever.....attracted to him? Kind of thought about it for awhile just because it was such a big....thing to do for me, but there was just nothing there. You and everyone else that knows probably thinks me a cold bitch for that." I mutter. We're just outside my building now and I've stopped walking so we can stand just outside the front door. He shakes his head at me.   
"You're not a cold bitch. If there's not something there you can't force it. I can't believe a person would do that for a stranger, that's brought out a new side of him I ever thought I'd see. And you accepted the invitation?" He asks. I laugh.   
"Not immediately, no. I stopped talking to the guy for about a week. It was fuckin creepy, but when he realized why I wasn't talking to him he promised not to kidnap and sell me." He lets out a nervous laugh here. "Sorry, you keep letting me ramble on, you should go home it's freezing out." I say this when I begin to see my breath when I speak. It's cold as hell suddenly and while I know it doesn't bother me, I know it can get to others bad enough.   
"Don't apologize, Bird. If it were any warmer I would probably keep you here all night but this may freeze my fuckin bollocks off. Are you comin on the trip this weekend?" He asks in a way that cuts himself off halfway through his response to me. I frown and shake my head.   
"No, what trip?" I ask.   
"Rob, Me, and Alex were goin on a trip for a few days to get away from the city. We thought you'd be joining us." He answers. Trip over the weekend? Gods that could go so many places if it were you and I. Fuck. Fuck I really want him. Calm down.   
"Haven't been asked, no." I answer with a hint of hopefulness to be invited. He smirks and looks away from me down the street before looking at me again.   
"I'm sure you'd have no objections from us if you were to join us." He offers. I have to bite my cheek to stop the grin from forming.   
"I don't want to intrude. It sounds like a weekend with the boys." I answer. As much as I want to go I don't want to be 'that friend' that has to be pity invited to things.   
"Rob worships you, he'll be grateful to have you there at all and Little Alex Horne doesn't have a say in the matter. I'd like for you to join us if you want to." Little Alex Horne? There's a story there and I WANT IT.   
"Do me a favour and run it by Rob? I'm all for it if everyone's okay with it. Unless of course you big scary men are trying lure me away from the city." He laughs at this and looks at me with devious eyes.   
"I'll be sure to do that. Have a good night, Bird." I freeze in place at him leaning down towards me, thinking for the longest of seconds that he's doing this to kiss me. I wouldn't mind, but the lack of warning scares the shit out of me. Instead of the kiss I think it's going to be, he kisses my forehead and turns to walk away. Forehead kiss. That....that bastard just forehead kissed me, and he as SOFT lips. FUCK. I'm frozen for a good few seconds watching him walk across the street back towards a slightly busier street to catch a cab. Holy fuck. That.....that just happened. That just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, it gets saucy soon.


	3. The Trainride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it fate or is it just really good luck?

I flinch awake, gasping for air and trying to relax again and ease into the waking world. I wasn't by any means having a nightmare, it was a pretty hot dream involving a giant man and I. One that I very much would like to re-enter, but I'm unable to immediately due so because of the reason I have woken up so quickly. My phone is going off with it's alarm to, obviously, wake me up at the ungodly hour of ten in the morning. Rob is picking me up so we can head to the train station that starts our three day long trip to location still unknown. When they said I'd have to be awake this early I almost bailed, but couldn't pass the opportunity with Greg being there. I turn the alarm off and begrudgingly being peeling off my blankets on my bed. Since I don't have any idea what the trip is, or what we're going to be doing, I'm not packing too light. I am bringing a duffel bag that has blankets in it, heavy blankets, and a pretty well-equipped first aid kit. that's just the duffel. I then have a large backpack that holds the rest of the things I might need on a trip away, clothes, computer, chargers, a couple of well concealed knives, and things to draw on and with. Then just to be extra safe, four bottle of water. It's not a shit ton of stuff but it sure as fuck feels like it is. And I told Rob it would be this way if he refused to tell me where we were going.   
"You up, yet, you lazy whore?!" Rob yells through my front door whilst pounding on it. No, he isn't being a jackass, he's just trying to be funny. I've never had a friend call me whore in an endearing way before and I love it. Unfortunately for him, though, I am in a terrible mood already and all his yelling does is make me want to kill him. Mornings are not and never have been my thing. I'm grumpy at the best of times, and a complete demon at the worst. Today is a happy mix of both. I quickly finish folding my think black quilt and stuff it into my duffel bag that has another quilt of similar size. They're huge blankets meant for king-sized beds that shouldn't fit in the duffel bag, but by sheer willpower I manage to get them in and clumsily walk to the door to open it for him.   
"Fuck you." I mutter upon seeing his grinning face. People that are happy in the morning make me want to peel their faces off and feed it to them just to see how happy they are afterwards. It's disgusting and unnatural to be happy after waking up. He mockingly pouts a lip out at me before entering the apartment.   
"I'll be taking this. We're going to need to move quickly." I grab my coat, hat, and sunglasses just as we're heading out the door. Everything I need was packed last night apart from my phone and the blankets, and one other item that I take everywhere I go if it's an overnight trip.   
"Mm." I grunt in acknowledgment. Whatever. Just get me to the train so I can sleep. I just want to go back to fucking sleep. We get in the car and I doze off almost immediately with my head against the window. Thankfully the ride is about twenty minutes so I have some time to let the anger seep out of me slowly and calm down again. Sex dream. I actually had a sex dream. About Greg. GREG. I'm a moron. I'm pathetic. Gods I hope I don't look like I got off. You don't. You never give off that impression afterwards, you're being paranoid. Right. Yeah that makes sense.   
"Well don't you just look like you've been shit on." Greg teases upon seeing me and Rob walking up to them. He's got a big backpack, along with Jon and Rob. Seeing Greg again makes my Stomach turn over a few times with nerves, which only get worse when I think back to the dream I was having. I don't greet them verbally mostly because of the nerves and being exhausted still, so I settle for a weak smile and wave at them.   
"Right let's get on the train. It's a few hours ride so I got us two different cabins." Rob explains while leading us to our train. I ignore everything after that in favour of just following them while not having to worry about engaging. I do this right up until I'm standing in a room with Rob and Jon giving me a weird look. "Your cabin is three down that way with Greg. It's on your ticket?" Rob says with amused confusion. Oh. Okay yeah I wasn't paying attention to that at all.   
"Shit sorry." I mumble, turning around and going in the direction he'd pointed me.   
I see Greg pop his head out confusedly. I ignore him when I enter the room and close the door behind us. The space is comically small and not at all what I was expecting when getting on a train in the UK. It's about ten feet long and maybe six feet wide, but most of the space is taken up by the bunk beds stacked against the wall to the right. They're basically glorified, double-decker cots with thin blankets and small pillows on them. There's a small window on the wall across the space from the entrance that currently looks out into the train station. Greg has to get out of the space so I can get into it, it's so small and compact. There. There are beds. YES. I go straight to the bottom bunk bed and set my bags down on it before curling up with a pillow hugged to my chest. The mattress is maybe three or four inches thick and not the most comfortable thing in the world, but I've slept in very strange places before that make this not the worst way to sleep. A few seconds after laying down I hear Greg chuckle, then feel him staring at me.   
"You're in my bed, Bird." He jokes, tapping my leg. No. I'm comfortable, I'm not going anywhere.   
"Mm-mm." I shake my head and curl up a bit tighter. This makes him fully laugh, then I feel the bed dip under his weight. He's comically large in this space, it's hard not to laugh even WITH the fact that my eyes are closed.   
"I WILL remove you from this bed." He warns in a voice that absolutely makes it impossible to doubt he'll be doing just that. Or you could get into the bed and we can sleep. You'd probably be warm as fuck. Gods and you're huge, too, you'd be a great blanket.   
"I WILL use you as a fucking mattress." I shoot back lazily.   
"Does this mean you're a top?" He teases. This gets me to open my eyes and shoot him a glare before shaking my head. One thing that I am not when I'm this tired, is a liar. I'm stupid honest and say things I wouldn't normally say when fully awake.   
"In a fight, not a fuck." I mutter back to him, closing my eyes again and trying to relax again. Just let me sleep. Or hey, let's have sex, either works for me, honestly. Gods that was such a good dream.   
"Good to know. I'll just save that information for latter, then." He teases very suggestively. I smirk, but quickly relax again. "I'm really not trying to be rude, love, but that top bunk won't support me sleepin on it." Come ON. I sigh.   
"Not trying to be an asshole but I could give a fuck right now, Gregory." As soon as I finish this statement I slowly sit up and lean forward with my head in my hands.   
"Have a rough night?" He asks through a laugh. In a way. I'd like to have a rough day if you're the one making it rough. I'm gross. "Ah." I frown at him, then scoff seeing his face looking at me as if he thinks he knows I've gotten laid.   
"You're a......fucking......" I yawn. "That's not....no." I giggle before yawning again. "Do me a favour and try not to hold this against me, mornings are for the weak." I slowly get up and ten lean against the frame of the bed.   
"It's not that early, darlin." He says, again, while laughing.   
"If it's before noon it's fuckin early. You know where we're goin? Like.....how much sleep can a person get?" I am always like this when I wake up early. Make no sense, talk in weird ways, ask stupid questions, give weird answers, and say things that will come to embarrass me in the future.   
"You'll have plenty of time to get to sleep before we get where we goin." He answers. I decide against climbing to the top bunk and instead opt to lay on the floor and use my backpack as a pillow. The duffel is underneath the bed. "That's......there's another bed." He says with confusion.   
"Nother bed too much fuckin energy get to." I mumble.   
"If you're trying to guilt me into giving up the bottom bunk it won't work, my heart is not that big." I giggle at this.   
"Not a damsel, Gregory, it's just the floor." And less of a chance of me rolling off the floor onto another floor. I'm sure if I were top bunk and I had another dream like that, or a nightmare, I'd roll straight off it.   
"You can't sleep on the floor." He complains.   
"Physically I think you'll find that I can, in fact, sleep on the floor." I retort. Everything I'm saying is coming out as a mumble and barely intelligible. As tired as I am I don't want to stop talking to him. He sighs at my argument.   
"Are you really going to make me pick you up?" He asks in a tone that suggests he's annoyed, but is easily looked past as amused.   
"What, at a bar? I'm basically asleep, you guys like us better asleep, right?" Holy fuck what did I just say? "Ignore that I'm a moron. Sorry." He starts to laugh again.   
"Oh no, a little fight makes it more thrilling." He answers. Thank you for not being a dick about that, I really thought you'd think it was fucked. "I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor." He says after a few moments of laughter.   
"Then let me sleep on you, I'm sure you're warmer." I mumble. Not smooth.   
"Have you been roofied? There's surely no way you're this tired at this time." He almost doesn't sound like he's joking.   
"Drugs don't work on me, love to see you try, though." If I keep talking I may need to sit up to stay awake. I don't get more than this thought through my head before I feel hands on me and flinch rather hard. This. Wakes. Me. Up.   
"I'm so sorry, love." He's amused by the reaction but also genuinely apologetic. Touching isn't something I'm good with, and that's for good reason.   
"Fuck I'm being a prick. I'm sorry. You don't......don't apologize you're being normal here. I swear this is me if I ever get drunk. I'm sorry about that." I scramble up to the top bunk and hug a pillow to my chest. FUCK. WHY AM I LIKE THIS.   
"You're adorable drunk, then. If all it took to get you to get up there was the disgust of me touching me you I should have done it sooner." It's meant as a tease, but it makes me feel guilty in an instant. I dip my head over the side of the bed to look him in the eyes, albeit in a very weird position.   
"That's not because of you, I promise. You're not disgusting, you're- I'd love you touching- I - you- FUCK!" I slam my hand down on the bed frame, more to reset myself than to express anger. He starts to laugh again, genuinely amused by the slip up of my words.   
"I was joking, Love. Go to sleep, I won't bother you atoll." I hesitate for a few moments before nodding.   
"Yes sir." I intend to say it in a cute and sarcastic way, but the mumble-y-ness of my voice ahs it coming out sounding VERY suggestive. The whole, sir, thing is actually something I enjoy sexually. I don't know why it's something I like so much, but I know it gets me going very quickly when I say it almost in any context. I use it to be an asshole sometimes, to mock authority or belittle it. Other times, similar to now, I say it to be provocative and spark surprise.   
"You be fucking careful starting that kinky shit with me, Bird, or I'll just have to ravage you to prove who's in charge here." It's a very awkward sentence, and it's very obviously not something he's used to playing off of since he makes it a bit of a question at the end. I hold my breath so I don't laugh or giggle at him. Instead, I get myself back and speak again.   
"Yes....sir." It's nearly impossible to get out without bursting into laughter. Please do something about it, I dare you. I triple dog mother fuckin raggedy ass I dare you. Please. Unfortunately for me, or maybe it's for the best, he doesn't do anything aside from laughing at me speaking again. Either way, I have to hold back laughter of my own. After this it's quiet, but not in any kind of awkward way, and I manage to get lucky enough to fall back to sleep.


	4. The Trainride Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really corny, get over it

"You awake?" I ask very quietly. I think a few hours have passed and I woke up a bit ago and didn't want to move because I heard him snoring like a truck and didn't want to wake him up. Unfortunately my dumbass left both of my bags down on the ground so I have been bored out of my mind waiting for either him to wake up or me to fall asleep again. He finally stopped snoring a bit ago but didn't move or speak. After what has felt like another eternity I got bored and couldn't lay around anymore. And being a coward and sitting around doing nothing isn't something I'm good at.   
"Yes." He answers, though he sounds about as tired as I still feel. Which isn't overly tired, but it's enough to know he's still fresh out of sleep.   
"Can you do me a big favour and hand me my backpack?" I ask sounding pretty shy still. After I woke up while I was debating speaking to him at all, I was heavily regretting everything that happened up until now today. Me being tired drunk and opening my mouth earlier is horrifying to have to remember now.   
"Here you go, love. I didn't wake you up with my truck-like snoring did I?" He asks me while he hands me my backpack. I don't look him in the eyes, or really look at him at all, out of embarrassment.   
"No. Takes a lot to wake me up. Sorry for the......earlier. Kind of possessed by demons in the morning." He laughs and we return to our respective positions, and I get my laptop out of my bag so I can start on watching a movie while writing.   
"That you surely are, Darling. It was quite an interesting morning that otherwise could have been boring." Yeah. That's true, it's nothing if not entertaining. That or annoying.   
"Do you know how much longer we're on the train for? I think we've been going a couple of hours." I ask him. The movie I intend to watch while writing is a personal favourite called The Raid 2. It's either that or the American Classic Kill Bill Volume 1 and 2. They're fast paced enough to pass time by, and those types of movies you can either pay a great deal of attention to, or barely watch in the background.   
"Honestly he didn't tell me where we were going, either. I only know we're on the train for at most six hours?" He answers. Six hours. That can take us to fuckin anywhere in this country. We aren't on mainland, though, either so we probably........yo.   
"Money he's taking us to a beach. Going as fast as we are in this tiny ass country six hours is the longest we can be on the train without looping back around anywhere." the beach. I haven't been to a beach in like two years, I love the beach. I wonder if the beaches here are nice or not. I think they're cold and muddy aren't they? This country is akin to that of Canada I thought. Maybe that's just my stupidity thinking they're going to be gross, but either way I love the ocean.   
"Oh god, that would be a mistake. This body does not work the beach." He mutters, making me laugh.   
"Everyone says that. Honestly you don't have to get fuckin naked just because you're at the beach. Besides, isn't it always cold at your beaches?" I ask him, now leaning over my bed to look at him while I speak. He smiles at me with slightly narrowed eyes.   
"They're actually quite nice in the summer. Right now I imagine the beach would be a shithole." I laugh.   
"Either way it'll be an adventure and a half. Cold or not. Are your beaches rocky or do you actually have sand?" I ask him, to which he shrugs.   
"I believe they are all covered with shittin sand." He says begrudgingly, making me laugh again. "You like the beach I take it." It's a question but he says it as if it's a statement.   
"Child of Poseidon all the way, yeah. I'll probably be the only one of us that actually goes into the water." I answer, pulling myself back up onto my bed.   
"I won't be runnin in to save your life if you get dragged out to sea." He warns sarcastically. I roll my eyes as I open my movie up.   
"I won't be needing you to. Fuck I'd bet it'd be me running out to save your ass from being dragged into the water." He grunts.   
"I am a cat in water, not in a graceful manner either." He answers. Gods that would be a sight to see. Pale giant flailing in the water? Grey water, lots of white foam around you, screaming in your loud ass voice? It'd be hilarious. Be salt in the wound if a small girl came out to save your life in that sense, too. Love shit like that. "I don't suppose you've brought anything to do for the rest of this mindless journey? I hadn't expected it to be quite so long." He asks me. My heart jumps at the question and I instantly close my writing program in favour of having the movie full screen.   
"Uh.....yeah I have a few movies on my computer if you wanna watch one of those? They're all action, though....." It's pathetic to me that my heart is beating quite as fast as it is because of just the possibility that we can watch a movie together.   
"That's good enough for me. Are you comfortable watching on the bed? Promise not to get too handsy with you." He jokes. Get as handsy as you want. Fuck. I need to stop thinking like this. I laugh at him while climbing back down to join him with my computer on his bed.   
"I'm not worried about you getting handsy. Are you sure we can....fit?" I ask him sheepishly. I hope he doesn't think I'm calling him fat because I truly in no way am, he's just a giant and himself barely fits on the bed. He laughs, already sitting balled up at one end of the bed, hunched over looking very uncomfortable. "No. There's no way you're comfortable." He laughs.   
"I'm really not." He answers.   
"Alright, unravel yourself. Get comfortable I'll figure it out after that." I order, hugging my computer to my chest while I wait for him to listen to me. He seems quite amused by me ordering him around, but he nods at me and unravels himself so he is sort of laying down with his legs outstretched, but sitting up against the end of the bed. This way there's a small amount of space on the bed between him and the wall if he's comfortable with that much contact. It truly would be a lot of physical contact. It's that or I sit on the floor next to the bed while we watch the movie. I don't know if I could handle the contact to be honest, and I'm going to be huddled wither laying there or sitting in a ball. Either works but it'd be weird. I tilt my head looking at the available space in the small room we're in.   
"You alright, love?" He asks me after a few seconds of me just staring.   
"Sorry yeah. The way I see it, it's up to what you're comfortable with. I can sit on the floor, computer probably on your legs? Or I can puzzle between you and the wall. That's entirely up to what you're comfortable with." I say all of this in a robotic way trying very hard not to sound nervous, because I truly am nervous about all of this. It's not possible for him to sit on the floor with me, the space there is smaller than that of the beds. He looks at the spaces and shrugs.   
"I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. What is best for you?" I shake my head.   
"Nope. I told you your decision I don't care either way." I almost interrupt him. The only reason I'm saying this and being so persistent of him choosing is because I don't want to be awkward and make any friendship between us weird. He sighs, making me feel a bit sick that I might be annoying him, but he seems to be fighting with the options, too.   
"I'm not a man that wants women to sit uncomfortable on the floor. Are you sure you can fit here?" He asks me. I look at the small space and nod.   
"I'm flexible. Not....overly coordinated, though." I admit, handing him my laptop. He laughs and gets as low as he can to give me room.   
"I could move to the wall? So you don't need to-" He says this just as I begin the VERY awkward move to crawl over him to get to the small space.   
"You wait until I'm all but straddling you to say this?" I ask him, glaring at him from about a half foot away from his face.   
He smirks, looking entirely amused with himself and looking me over in the odd position I'm in. I currently have just one leg over his body in the small space I will be occupying while grabbing a bar that's used to keep the mattress on the top bunk in place to hold myself up over him. My other leg is still on the floor, and my other hand is holding onto the edge of the top bunk's frame. For the moment that I Glare at him I expect, more hope, that he kisses me or does something to the same effect. After a second and a half of just glaring at him, playfully, I move as quickly as I can over him to get into the small space between him and the wall and then slowly let myself get comfortable. It's a bit tighter than I originally thought it would be, but I manage to fit if I hug my legs and lean against the wall. I even manage to get a half inch of space between our bodies, which pleases me enough to pump my fist in a very small way before grabbing my laptop from him again.   
"Okidokie. Uh......Movies." I open the laptop again and then open the program that holds the majority of my movies in it. "So there's a few we can watch.......do you care about foreign movies?" I ask him.   
"Foreign?" He asks. Right. I don't know how.....you guys refer to them. I don't see why it would be any different here, but whatever.   
"Yeah I have a couple Indonesian movies, French, and the American Classics Kill Bill, which has a fair amount of Japanese in it. Inglorious Basterds is....fuckin....every language almost. Do you care about subtitles is what I'm getting at here." I explain while scrolling through my sort lift of movies. I have maybe fifteen in total here, all action or horror.   
"I don't much care." He answers, and I nod. Cool. Raid it is, then.   
"Also all pretty gory." I warn, opening the first Raid movies. Once it's started and the volume is all the way up, I carefully set the laptop back on his lap, and lean against the wall while hugging my legs lazily.   
"Are you sure you're comfortable? You can take up more space than that, I won't bite." He jokes. I smirk at him and nod.   
"I told you, I'm flexible." Is all I say to answer him, fully knowing it sounds dirty when it isn't meant as such. It annoys me every time I say it because it's exactly how it's taken no matter the context it's said in. I look back at the movie before he has time to respond. "Perks of being small." I mumble. Oddly enough I really am comfortable like this. As long as I have support for my body somewhere I'm good at being curled up like this.   
"If you're not comfortable you don't have to be there. If you think it'll make me happier- "   
"Gregory." I interrupt him. He stops and purses his lips shut. "I don't do anything for anyone else if it makes me uncomfortable. I encourage you to do the same, it's easier." I finish with a smile before nodding back to the computer for him to pay attention to the movie. He seems to take this at face value. The light in the cabin space is still on and the movie I put on is mostly in the dark, which I hate. "Uhm.....would you mind terribly turning the light off?" I ask him since he's on the side of the bed towards the exit and the switch.   
"I wouldn't mind at all." He says a bit sarcastically to get me to smile at him, which I do.   
Once the light is off we manage to watch most of the movie in relative peace. I can't stop glancing back at him every few minutes to see how he reacts to the movie. It's a great movie, but it's pretty violent and gory in some places. There aren't a lot of 'vanilla' people that enjoy hyper violence in movies, or that's experience that I've had with my friends in the past. So far, though, he seems to be enjoying it for the most part.   
Is this weird? That we're doing this? I think the question you should be asking yourself is if this is a date or not. I mean, it isn't. It'd be cool if it were but I highly highly doubt that it is. If you have to ask yourself if it's a date, it's either too pathetic to be considered a date, or it absolutely isn't a date at all. Greg isn't like my generation in that he's chill with whatever happens, he's a guy that most likely wants to do dating the 'right' way or whatever. He'd probably want to GO ON A DATE, not just do something like this and CALL it a date. Granted, from the bit of research I've done this week he also doesn't seem to be a guy that's looking for someone to date. By research, I mean that I watched a few short clips of him on youtube mostly because I couldn't help it, and I wanted to know more about him as a person, not that those clips really tell anyone anything. Stop looking at him, it's weird. And if he knew you were staring at him all day Monday, he's absolutely going to notice it now that you're less than two feet from his face. I know. Just can't help it sometimes, I hate not knowing what people are thinking. Seeing his face is the closest I get to that, I'm not trying to be weird. He doesn't know that.   
"That's a good fuckin movie." He says once the movie finishes. I grin and nod.   
"Yeah, the sequel is honestly better if you can believe it." I agree. The sequel is unlike most other sequels in that it's genuinely better than the first, though this isn't to say the first is bad in any way at all.   
"D'you have it?" He asks almost with excitement, but it's well contained. HE LIKES THEM.   
"Yeah if you really wanna see it?" I ask, to which he nods. Sick. "Coolio....." I take a deep breath and take my laptop back, slowly stretching my legs out to get them to relax some from being tensed up for so long while I search for the sequel. He has to move his own legs for me to do this, which makes me feel a bit bad, but not too guilty. "It's longer, and actually has a.....really good plot? And uh....." I shake my head while pulling it up. "There's a scene in it that's genuinely kind of amazing- I mean it's all fuckin sick but.....sorry. Sorry." I shake my head when I realize just how much I'm rambling. Greg laughs at me before patting my shoulder.   
"What were you going to say?" He asks. I shake off the shock of him touching me before I answer him.   
"There's a shot that's done in one take towards the end. I think.... three cars, three different camera guys, but one camera. First guy starts on a rig facing into the first car, goes back tot he car behind it......" I close my eyes to remember properly. "Then...a fuckin dude is disguised as a SEAT in the next car that the first camera guy hands the camera off to, then it goes THROUGH the car, to the back seat on the other side, and out that window to another camera guy. Just....the fuckin craftsmanship behind it is ridiculous." I put the movie on full screen and bring my legs back up to make room for his again before putting the laptop down on them again.   
"Fuck. I know how complicated a normal scene is to shoot, that sounds like fuckin hell to choreograph." I smirk and nod.   
"Yeah it probably was. You......you act, too?" I ask him. HE gives me another look of confusion at this question. "Sorry, I promise I'm not intentionally being naïve, I just don't like to get too much into careers until I know people, here." He seems to understand this a bit and nods at me.   
"I do. I've been in a few movies and shows. They're hell to produce." He answers. Yeah I bet.   
"Yeah that's not surprising to hear. What've you been in? Rob makes fun of you for........uh...." I tilt my head to remember. "Fuck what was it?" I ask myself.   
"A teacher. I'm known for my role as a teacher in The Inbetweeners. I don't mean to sound vain but how did you manage to avoid that being friends with Rob?" He asks. I shrug.   
"They talk, but it's hard to get a grasp from just that. It's....." I sigh. "It feels creepy to me? I guess?" I answer with complete honesty in this situation simply because it isn't embarrassing to admit. I knew Rob before I KNEW Rob, and it tainted how I saw him a bit, and it took awhile to get past what I thought he was going to be like off stage.   
"Creepy?" He asks.   
"Yeah....." I don't know how to explain that to him so it makes sense, it always feels like a confusing reason when said aloud. I huff at myself before trying to explain my reasoning. "It's hard to explain to be honest, but it sort of boils down to not wanting to have an opinion before I meet people. Feels like lowkey stalking." Again he nods, but he still doesn't seem to really understand.   
"Watchin hours upon hours of hours of someone, I suppose that makes sense. You can look me up all you want, Love, and I won't think you creepy atoll." He gives me a small smile once finished speaking, which causes my heartbeat to get much faster. Especially when I see him glance down from my eyes to what I think are my lips.   
Do it. PLEASE do it, I dare you. It distracts me so much, just a small glance down, that I completely forget what I was going to say and opt to look away from him at the laptop. He's amused by this action, evident in how he lets out a silent laugh, and starts the movie. What if.....what if this goes somewhere on the train? Like, what if he makes a move on me during the movie? Do I......do I let him, or do I step back? You LET it HAPPEN. Sex on a train would be hot, especially with him. It would be hot, but he's such a massive prick that I imagine he'd have to put all his weight on me - which I'm fine with - or be hunched and pressed against the bottom of the top bunk. It would be a very awkward fit trying to fuck here. BUT. It would still be hot as fuck. He probably knows what he's doing. That might be the most naïve thing I've ever thought about sex. Fuck off. Age doesn't always mean good experience or the promise of knowledge. Don't ruin the fantasy, just go with it. Him kissing you gently before very quickly moving faster, rolling on top of you, pinning your hands above your head.....Stop. Just. Stop. I can NOT think this right now with him RIGHT THERE. He can't read your mind and you aren't being obvious, just enjoy the fucking fantasy that won't ever come true.   
"You can stretch out more if you need to." He comments when I tilt my head to each side and roll my shoulders.   
I'm great in small spaces and I love them, but being in one position for too long genuinely does start hurting after awhile. Instead of stretching out as he suggests, though, I just shrug it off and continue to watch the movie. He would be good in bed at the very least. Unless he's a moron, which he isn't, or somehow sexually inexperienced, very unlikely, or doesn't give a shit about getting you off, he's got to be good. From my experience, though limited as it may be, guys don't give a shit about getting us off. They do what works for them and damned be their partners for so much as thinking any different. He doesn't have to be good. But he most likely is. Stop. Seriously I don't need to think like this right now. I'll fantasize later when I'm alone and don't feel so dirty for doing it. Blatantly sitting here thinking about having sex with him is gross and weird, and honestly quite rude, too. Fantasizing at ALL is rude, actually. Why? You're not hurting him, he isn't being exploited, every thought you have is yours to do what you want with. If you were stalking him then yes it would be creepy but you aren't. I'm still violating him. If he knew I thought about him that way he might not want to come near me again. I hate personally feel gross if I know someone's had those thoughts about me. It's only happened twice to me, and both times it felt like I was covered in slime or tar from how gross it made me feel. Incidentally I never spoke to them again, either.   
"Jesus Christ." Greg pulls me out of my mind by saying this, making me first look at him to see what's wrong, then back at the computer to understand why. Ah. It's not a BAD scene, but it is a bit taboo. There's a woman walking around with only a strap-on to cover part of her body while the rest is completely bare.   
Gods. I forgot about that scene. It's the only scene that has any amount of nudity in either movie thankfully, but it's still.....weird. Wish I hadn't forgotten about that, I could have prepared to not be as embarrassed if I remembered that. My neck starts to hurt again so I sit up a bit and roll my head around to stretch it out. Don't make it obvious, don't make him think you're trying to entice him. Don't make him think you're a slut. I'm not a slut my fuckin neck hurts, damn. Cliche` movie move. Sort shoulders or neck, absently stretch in front of love interest, love interest decides to massage the sore spot, then sex happens. Every fuckin time. Shit. But that's not what I'm doing at all. It goes unnoticed by Greg, but I still have to take a few minutes to relax again to quell the paranoia that he might think I'm trying way too hard to make him want me when I'm not. When I finally do manage to relax, I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes to stop them from burning. I almost decide to keep them closed so I can fall asleep again, but decide against it due to the fact that it's not only rude to fall asleep during a movie, but it would be terribly rude to fall asleep in his bed. It's also hard to fall asleep when I'm in a position like this. I've done it before a few times but it's very shitty sleep and very not comfortable. Every few minutes I have to stretch my neck out again, and it just gets worse every time.   
"There isn't any way he continued to walk after that." Greg complains at the scene in which our titular hero is fighting one of the antagonists that, towards the end of the fight, pulls two curved knives out and slices the hero's leg just in the bend of the knee.   
"Adrenaline does weird shit." I argue. On one hand, if the tendons were cut he wouldn't have a functional leg, but if it's just as simple as a deep slice then he could work through the pain until the end of the fight based purely on the adrenaline rush he's got going.   
"I don't care if he doesn't feel that, the tendons are gone." He argues jokingly. I smile and shrug.   
"If they were cut, sure. He may not have cut deep enough. The cut was made when Rama pulled away from the blade so while it looked deep it may just be a cut that hurts like fuck." He concedes the debate there with a tilted nod. I jump when my phone vibrates in my pocket, which makes him laugh at me. Shit. Have to.....move to get that shit. I awkwardly lean over towards Greg so I can get my hand in my pocket to pull the phone out.   
'We're about five minutes out.' Rob says via text message. Ah damn. I think we have just a bit more than that to go in the movie. Fuck.   
"Fuck. We're getting pretty close, should get ready." I pause the movie and close the laptop so I can get my shit together without worrying about being late. Greg huffs, but begins to move and get off the bed, and I follow quickly so I can get to the top bunk again. Even in the small spaced room, being out from the bottom bunk makes it easier to breathe properly. I get to my bed and sigh in relief. "If you want, we can finish it later, it's almost over." I offer while putting the laptop back in my backpack.   
"Absolutely." He answers. YES. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't fucking @ me


	5. The Destination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think I originally had Alex Horne, but I can't remember if I fixed it or not, Alex's spot is now Jon Richardson

"How'd you two get on?" Jon asks us when me and Greg rock up to their cabin. I stay in the corridor outside, as does Greg, since there's barely any room for Rob and Jon to stand, nevertheless me or Greg being added to the mix. Jon looks a bit devious when he asks the question, looking between me and Greg with the smallest hint of a smile on his face. It makes my body feel cold thinking that he might know I'm into Greg and think we've been hooking up the whole train ride.   
"The bird here nearly killed me over a bed." Greg answers with a laugh.   
"Excuse me? I very gracefully gave that up to you when you asked for it, good sir." I mock right back at him, feigning insult.   
"Ya know what ya should've done, Greg, was assert dominance by laying on top of her, that would have gotten her to move." Jon teases. No, that would have turned me the fuck on and probably killed me.   
"Well, I would have done that if I didn't think she'd throw me out the window for it." Greg shoots back.  
"Ah come on, we all know you're too fat to fit out the window." Rob joins in with a smirk. This gets us all to laugh while we head towards the exit of the train.   
"So are you going to tell us where we are or do we have to guess?" I ask him once the train finally stops and we can get off.   
"If you don't figure it out by the time we get there you don't deserve to know." He responds. What. I quickly look around the station for a name on a sign or advertisement. Dundee. That's......shit. I thought I knew this country better than this. I don't think I've ever heard of Dundee in the UK. Small town, no doubt. Means cabin getaway or camping and if it's camping I'm turning around right now.   
"If we're camping I'm leaving you here to die." I warn. Camping has never been something I'm good at or enjoyed. The best part of it is the fire and I can make a fire at home if I want to. Rob turns around and begins to walk backwards while giving me a smug look. "No." I refuse to fuckin camp I hate camping. After a few seconds of him not answering me I stop walking altogether. "You're not taking us camping." I say maybe a bit too angrily, which gathers the attention of the other men in our group.   
"I'm not taking you camping, I'm no savage. You really think they would handle the outdoors?" He asks me jokingly. I look at Jon and Greg for a moment before shrugging and conceding the argument. I mean......I guess not. I didn't even consider that before now honestly. Feels rude to assume people can't handle things just because they.....are them? I dunno.   
"You know, she's paranoid about camping because everyone that goes camping in America gets slaughtered." Jon jokes. I frown in confusion for a few moments before understand what he's referencing.   
"You forget the underlying causation for why young campers get slaughtered in the first place, Jonathan." I argue with a smirk.   
"Oh? What's that?" He shoots back, though we're all sure he knows what I'm going to say.   
"The underlying reason for most people to die in horror is because they're fucking. The overall message in most slasher horror movies is abstinence because....fuck fucking?" I say with a shrug. It's something that annoys the shit out of me in media, and a big reason I don't really ever watch American, or English, horror movies.   
"Why are we talking about sex? Are we planning an orgy this weekend?" Rob asks only halfway kidding. I look at the three men as they all look at each other and then me, which makes me for the briefest of moments, very uncomfortable.   
"No you dirty dirty prick." Greg jokes. "If I may answer this question for you, I believe she's arguing that her unwillingness to go camping has nothing atoll to do with being worried about a serial killer because she has no interest in fucking any of us." He has it spot on until the very last bit. And in him stating this in this setting, I have no idea how to get across to him that he's only partially correct. He looks back at me with a smirk and a raised eyebrow asking if he's correct or not. For a moment I genuinely don't know what to say. I don't want him to think I don't.....like him, but I can't have it just being out there, either.   
"Uh......" I look down at my feet and try very hard to get a goo answer out there. "I mean I didn't say THAT." WHY. WHY DID I SAY THAT? "I elect not to answer this question just fuckin move on." I order them very hastily. Yeah that wasn't smart I could have actually answered that question. Now I'm the weird girl in a group of guys traveling abroad that may or may not want to fuck them. Yeah. Great times. I just ruined this trip. Thankfully, and by this I mean by a miracle that is Greg Davies, he laughs and changes the subject.   
"I imagine we're either going to a remote cabin in the woods or to a very posh resort. Knowin Rob, an him knowin us, it's a cabin because the fuck is cheap." He says with a sarcastic whip sound in his voice. 

"You called it." I mutter to Greg upon seeing the relatively small cabin-like house that's been placed in the middle of a forest. Sort of.   
Despite the fact that I hate camping, being outside in a forest is something I thoroughly enjoy as long as there's no bugs. Because as cool as I am as a person, I'm not cool enough to be okay with bugs, and I can't properly function without internet for more than a few hours. In those regards, I'm a product of my generation and I have no issues with that at all. The house itself isn't quite what one would expect from a standard cabin in the woods. It's two stories, and not in any way decrepit or damaged. It's a nice fuckin place. From outside it looks like a two story house that's still managing to be quite small, but clean. Surrounded by trees, there's grass all over the ground, it genuinely looks like a fairytale location from looking at it. But it's easy to know that this means instead of dry mulch being the most annoying thing to deal with, that it'll be a very cold and damp place to be. It rains all the time here, and right now it's been consistently cold outside, so being in a forest where there's grass and tall trees tells us that it will be cold and wet the entire time we're here.   
"This begs the question of did you bring us here to kill us?" I let this out more to myself than to them, but I DO think it's amusing. Rob looks at me after parking the rent-a-car and smiles sweetly. Something I probably haven't said as of yet is that he is pretty attractive as a person, just not in a way that gets to me. He grins at me before giving Jon and Greg a devious look that genuinely makes him look like a psychopath. He only holds this look for a few seconds before breaking it.   
"I wouldn't have made the mistake of inviting you along if my end game was to commit murder."   
"And you'd invite the two of us?" Jon asks. I look at him and laugh.   
"Jon you'd be the easiest of us all to kill." I say it so fast I don't realize I've said it until it's been said. He's insulted but only in a way that he can be when he knows it's the truth.   
"And you think you aren't?" Greg asks me. Me and Rob look at each other with a smirk before looking at him.   
"Dear, sweet, ignorant Gregory." I pat his shoulder, then decide to get out of the car with my backpack. I could wipe the floor with the three of you. Giant or not.   
"Don't you Dear, Sweet, Innocent Gregory me and walk away young lady." Greg complains after following me out of the car. I turn around, carefully walking backwards, and give him a cocky smile.   
"Don't you start with the young lady bullshit I'm no lady." I finish the sentence matching his accent in a very annoying way in that it's nearly dead on. It catches all but Rob off guard.   
"Honestly you're beginning to sound a bit sexist Rob. You'd kill us but not her?" Jon asks. As flat and annoying as he may sound, he's actually a pretty funny person because of it. The humor matches him as a person and makes his jokes typically pretty amusing. This situation is no different, though Rob's face does go a bit red.   
"Go on and show them why I wouldn't try killing you, Charlie. For my dignity and honor." Rob asks me. I roll my eyes and groan.   
"That's a whole thing and it comes with the backstory and I don't know if you have any dignity to spare." The other two men let out sounds of shock at this, all of us laughing after it's been said. I can fight, and I'm relatively okay at it. Much better than most people would think given that I'm quiet, shy, and all around pretty pathetic of a person. But the reason I can fight is simultaneously funny and really dark. Rob knows simply because when he saw me have a panic attack the first time, he'd kind of guessed, then the rest of the story came out. The story he wants me to tell, though, is the part that's funny, in that all I ever watched when I was a kid were action and horror movies, and from them I taught myself how to fight just so I could 'be like them' and by them, I mean people like Riddick and Blade. Not exactly role models.   
"So you ARE the secret superhero everyone thinks you are back in America." Jon says. Rob takes the lead and we follow him to the entrance to the house so he can unlock it.   
"Not anymore." I mumble to myself. After I left America to live here, nearly the entire country disowned me. Granted, I didn't exactly leave on the best terms, since I said in an interview over here how much disdain I have for it. Before that interview I genuinely was loved by a lot of people, and for whatever reason they all thought I was a closeted superhero. This is because I was extremely unapologetically outspoken about my opinions on how people are treated, but I don't want to get into that. Did you go to a school for heroes?" Jon asks. I give him a look that says, basically, 'shut up what the fuck are you saying'.   
"Do you think I'm an x-man or something, Jon?" I ask him with a laugh.   
"The girl is closer to a serial killer than a superhero." Rob says before I can continue to speak.   
Before continuing, let's describe the cabin. When we get inside, there's a main room that's about twenty feet wide and fifteen feet deep. It's got a vaulted ceiling that I think goes just about to the top of the house with a bit of room for another small room just above it. To the right of the room's back right corner is a small kitchen that has an L counter around the wall, with a small window on the right wall and cabinets over the counter against the back wall with a stove and microwave. The sink is like most sinks are, under the window. There's a large island counter as well. The space between the kitchen and the front of the house is dining space. It's got a round table and five chairs around it, all made of bright polished wood that contrasts in a really nice way to the dark burgundy wood the rest of the house is made of. The left side of the room, the entire left side, is living space. There's a small, very ugly light green couch, and a wooden chair with a wooden coffee table, all in front of the faux fireplace. I say faux. There's real flames that would come out of it, but only lit by gas instead of real wood, and this prevents smoke and the need for a chimney. There's a doorway in the middle of the wall across from the front door that's open and looks to lead into a bedroom, and a set of stairs against the same wall leading to a very oddly placed balcony that leads to two doors at opposing sides of the building.   
"They DO say it's the quiet ones, don't they?" Jon continues.   
"That's not all they say about 'quiet ones'." Greg says jokingly. Oh gods did you really make that reference? "What do you intend for us to do here for three days, Rob? We're not exactly struggling for material." Yeah that's a good question. Typically trips like this have a purpose whether it's the 'recording a record in a month', or for a family vacation to 'unplug'. Strangers don't do this, or relative strangers, don't just go to a cabin for the fuck of it.   
"Well I originally wanted to come by myself but this was the last place they had available, it's got three bedrooms and I hate waste." Rob answers quite quickly. Three.   
"That's a convenient amount of bedrooms." Jon asked. "I can tell you now I'm not sharin a bed with any of you." He doesn't sound disgusted but he is being serious. I look at the couch and nod.   
"I'll sleep out here." I offer. Why was I invited if there weren't enough beds?   
"No need, she can share with Greg. I've had two beds put in the bedroom down here." Rob says. The fuck you say? The thought, to be honest, is quite exciting to me but it feels far too convenient and would be awkward as hell in reality. I hate sharing a room with anyone and have a very hard time sleeping in these situations. The trainride only worked because of how tired I already was, and I knew he couldn't see me. I should say no to that. I should really say no to that right now. He could take it the wrong way. They could all take it the wrong way, but I don't know if I should share a room with him it's too weird.   
"Where's your gentlemanliness? She shouldn't have to share." Greg argues. You don't want to share, either. I knew you wouldn't, it's too weird and I'm too young for you. I'm just a kid to you.   
"The person that pays for the trip gets to call the shots." Rob answers smugly. I mean sure but still that's so weird.   
"It's fine. Unless you take issue with sharing with me?" I ask Greg. It comes out sounding like I'm trying to challenge him but I truly don't want him to do it if he's uncomfortable with it. He looks at me for a few seconds curiously before tilting his head in a sort of nod.   
"Your chivalry knows no bounds, Brydon." He doesn't sound overly pleased and this only makes me feel worse. I shouldn't have come at all. I'm literally making this trip impossible to enjoy just by being here. I shouldn't have come. Rob shouldn't have invited you. No. Technically Greg invited me. But Rob had to approve it and he knew beforehand there wasn't enough room for all of you. I just don't want to be in the way. So far I've only made things worse for them. "And what are we all doing here for three days?" He asks again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know a thing about Britain I just went on Google Earth and looked at random names to find Dundee.   
> Promise it gets saucy soon, it's a bit of a slow burn


	6. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transition to the next chapter

I decide to walk around them towards the bedroom to get my things sorted out while they talk to each other. I mostly leave them because of how shitty I feel about the situation. It's a small inconvenience under normal circumstances that should only cause annoyance, but to me it feels like my should is being sucked into a black hole in my chest. Sometimes the dumbest shit can set this reaction in motion to the point that I feel like the worst person on the planet. It's a very deep guilt that starts to tell me I'm a worthless person that's only alive to get in everyone's way and be a hindering annoyance. Leaving the room allows for room to breathe erratically without them hearing me or seeing my eyes tear up. It isn't enough to get me to have a full panic attack, but it's still a very overdone reaction. If they saw me like this over something like that they'd either feel like they need to walk on eggshells around me and start avoiding me, or they'd make fun of it because of how pathetic it is. To calm down, I close my eyes and just force myself to breathe as deeply as my closing throat will allow and continue to do this until there's no physical characteristics visible to anyone else.   
The room is pretty small. It's probably ten by twelve feet long and nine feet tall. The beds aren't so small that they match the ones on the train, but I know Greg will most likely hang off the edge. They have three feet on space between them, and are against the wall in opposing sides of the room with a small table between the two of them. On the wall to the left of the door, there's another door that I imagine leads to a bathroom, and the wall opposing that is a window. The wall sharing the entrance has a dresser on the right that has a small television on it and a dvd player hooked up to it. The floor is an off-white carpet that is in no way fluffy. Against the wall sharing the door to the bathroom are a couple of hooks and a shelf above them holding a few books. The main light source, the only light source, is a small lamp on the table in the middle of the room that is currently off. There's nothing else in the room but these things, and under normal circumstances this room would be great. The blankets on the beds that are identical are thin and have pink flowers on a white background. Each bed has three fat, white pillows. All in all, this makes it clear the weekend is going to be shit.   
"I apologize for Rob's dickheadedness. If I knew this would happen I wouldn't have suggested he invite you along." I freeze when Greg enters the room, thanking everything that my back is to him so he doesn't see how upset I am. I'm only finally calming myself back down, but I know I still probably look sad or all around pathetic. He comes in and aggressively puts his backpack on his bed. I take a deep breath before answering him.   
"You're fine, not your fault. Sorry." Short and clipped. That's how the response has to be in order for me to sound normal. Gotta get the duffel out of the car. I turn around and head out, returning with my duffel bag and beginning to unpack it as well.   
"I can sleep out there if it would make you comfortable." He offers. I don't look at him at any point, but I shake my head. You don't need to accommodate me, this isn't your fault at all.   
"If anyone is sleeping out there, it's me. Would you prefer that?" I ask him. Every part of me thinks he might say yes, or wants to say yes.   
"I don't mind it atoll. I suppose it may be for the best, we can finish that movie and I don't have to put up with either of them snorin me awake the entire night." This makes me smile, and takes away most of my anxiety and guilt about the situation. It's not gone entirely but it's not so bad that I'm on the verge of an attack. We can finish the movie, you're completely correct. Still......it's shitty that anyone was put in this position without knowing about it first. "What did he want you to tell us about you being unkillable?" He asks after a minute or so of us quietly unpacking. I have my blankets on the bed while my duffel is on the floor underneath it. The one item I brought that I don't want him or anyone else to see due to the childlike-ness of it is a small plush Iron man. He goes where I go if it's going to be overnight. I stash him in the blanket when I remove it from the duffel hoping it goes unseen. Then I get on the bed and start to get out my laptop again along with it's charging cable.   
"Oh uh....." I shrug and sigh. "Before you ask that question I'm gonna say this: you can ask me whatever you want, but you have to be prepared to get an answer you don't expect." He seems confused by this, but nods. "Cool. Now do you want the funny answer or the dark answer?" I ask him. Another look of complete confusion from him.   
"Quite frankly I'm surprised there's two different answers. Both." He answers. Woohoo.   
"Dark answer: some shitty things happened to me when I was a kid that forced me to learn how to defend myself. Funny answer: the only movies I Watched as a kid were action and horror, and I wanted to be badass. Do you know how to fight? I've heard you're a pretty......kind guy?" I ask him. He's unpacked his clothes and put them in one of the drawer in the dresser in front of my bed, which is closest to the window, and sat down on his bed facing me.   
"Used to get bullied quite a bit in school and got in a few fights but never committed to being the Karate Kid." He answers with a smirk. "Once I got this tall people made assumptions that I would tear them apart if they fucked with me and I didn't need to learn more than how to hit someone and knock them out on my first go." I laugh at the mental image.   
"Interesting. So did Rob actually tell you why we're here? Or are we going to get the oh-so-fun reveal of being sacrifices for a cult?" I ask him this while opening my laptop and pulling up my writing project again.   
"He wanted to come to get away from the city and relax for a few days." He answers. Fuck off. That's stupid.   
"Not to sound like a complete city slicker, but what in the fuck are we doing for three days up here? I imagine there's no internet or event happening. I don't care how attuned with nature you guys are, sitting around for three days is tedious." I get a bit peeved with the answer given. Not one of us in this group seem like people that would enjoy sitting around doing nothing for a few hours nevertheless three DAYS. I can live without the internet as long as there's SOME kind of bullshit to do.   
"City slicker?" He asks while sounding amused. "I don't mind being out here if I'm on my own but you're not wrong. Knowing Rob, we'll probably be forced into board games while we get drunk." Once the option of getting drunk is on the table I begin to feel sick again.   
Nothing overly bad has happened to me involving alcohol apart from an incident a few years ago. My father had accidentally run over his dog that he'd had for about eight years, he felt so guilty that he got completely wasted. I'd been eighteen at the time and was there to visit him for the weekend. It happened the second we got home. I took my shit in the house, then he came storming in and I asked what was up because he'd yelled loud enough to be heard inside. When he told me he'd killed the dog I Thought he was genuinely joking, since that's how he joked my entire life. But he'd gotten a towel and ran back outside. He, as previously stated, got wasted and made it my responsibility to take care to make him feel better about it when I was completely falling apart. He drank for hours, and talked almost non-stop about how he's been through a lot of shit in his life and blah blah blah, then he got mean and I'd never been around him like that before. When he finally went to bed is when I finally got to break down, but then he came into the kitchen- where I slept in a small cordoned off area with false walls, and pissed in the trash can. It sounds funny, but at the time I was disgusted and terrified. Before that, the worst thing drunk people did to me was talk to me for hours while crying or being super nice. Whether I knew them or not. I feel like a drunk person magnet and it makes me extremely uncomfortable being around them.   
"I'm going to run back into town to get us some supplies for the weekend, does anyone want to join me?" Rob asks us from the doorway. Nope. I'll stay here and do nothing, this is probably the best place for me to get more work done. Kind of hope they all go so I can play some music.   
"I'm good." I answer, already beginning on my book again.   
"I've spent the entire day on a fuckin train." Greg's answer is easy enough to understand. Yeah that, too.   
"What would you like for me to bring back?" Rob asks. Food. Preferably. And car to take me the fuck home.   
"Water, snacks." I answer absently.   
"I'm with her. Water and a bag of cheese puffs, and it better be bigger than my head or you're going back out." Greg jokes. Cheese puffs. What?   
"Alright, we'll be back in about an hour. Remember, if there's a serial killer, don't have sex until he's dead. I roll my eyes and snap my fingers.   
"God diddly damn darn it, Rob, you've spoiled my plans for the night." Though, if we DO get hunted by a serial killer it could be fun. Hunt the hunter and all that. Put the fighting skills to the test.   
"Oh I know. And I live for it." Rob teases before closing the door behind him on his way out. Great. Sharing a room. ALONE with him in a cabin in the woods. This could not get anymore cliché, could it?


	7. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the sauciness begin

"Pop the movie back on?" Greg asks me.   
What movie? Oh yeah, nevermind. Damnit. I close out my story again before pulling the movie back up. Greg walks to the window and closes not just the blinds, but the curtain as well. They're very effective in that they're black out curtains that through the room into near complete darkness with the exception of light leaking around the edges. After he does this he does the unexpected thing of crawling on to the bed with me and forcing me to move to accommodate him. I really thought you'd watch from your own bed, to be honest. I put the laptop down towards the foot of the bed, then decide to allow myself to get comfortable by laying on my stomach with a pillow as support. It's a weird position that puts him behind me, but my back needs to stretch in this way for me to be actually comfortable. We're near the end of the movie, the final major fight scenes have just started. It instantly draws me back into it enough that I'm not too worried about him behind behind me anymore. Fuckin love this movie. After maybe two minutes, when the protagonist has smashed his way through the first big group of people, Greg surprises me by laying on his stomach next to me. You really don't seem like the type to be comfortable in that position.   
"You find it odd that Rob knows better than to try to kill you, but doesn't think you would be able to handle a real serial killer. You find that odd atoll?" He asks. There's no dialog in these last few scenes so there's no need to pay attention to the audio part.   
"Great question. Occam's Razor would suggest that he wouldn't be a great serial killer." I answer.   
"Suppose that could make sense. I don't know about you, but I highly doubt the motivations of a killer aren't purely dictated by whether or not people are fucking." What are you getting at here? Are you coming onto me right now? Is he coming onto me? The nerves start to rise in me, enough that I feel like I'm buzzing, and it's much harder to breathe.   
"Other than the opportunity it gives to them, no. Like I said earlier, it's cheap slasher movies that like to give that message that only the pure people are worthy of living, it's tedious." Get off the subject. Get off the subject right now. "At least foreign horror has a better way of telling a story. Like...Martyrs. No sexualization, just....crazy people doing crazy things for a crazy reason." It's a fantastic movie. "Don't worry, if you get scared I'll protect you." I tease, nudging his elbow with my own. I've always been the bodyguard friend so I'm used to saying shit like this out of either habit or as a joke. Shortest and youngest, but the most likely to be able to defend in a deadly situation.   
"Isn't it supposed to be the other way round?" He asks. I laugh.   
"Perfect juxtaposition." I answer. All of this is taking place while I pay attention to the movie, but he stares at me. Move on.   
"That is a great way to put it." After this he's quiet for the rest of the movie, thankfully. About seventy percent of me wants him to make a move, but the other thirty knows that if he does it could make things exceptionally awkward for the rest of the weekend. It terrifies me that he may do something and if it goes wrong I'll lose the friends I've made so far, here. I manage to calm back down by the time the movie comes to a close, though I get anxious again knowing the distraction is gone.   
"Okay.......you wanted to watch another?" I ask him without looking at him.   
"Yeah." He answers playfully. Gods stop it. For fuck's sake you're making my head spin. I open my movies again and select the first Kill Bill movie. "May I ask- " He stops himself as if trying to decide what he wants to ask me. Typically I'd pause, but I don't want to have to look at him. "I may be way off base here, and I am so sorry if I am, but do you fancy me?" He asks.   
The question makes my entire body go ice cold instantly. In moments like this, of pure fear, here's what it feels like for me. The world simultaneously stops moving, and moves much faster at the same time. My ears will ring for a few seconds because all the blood drains from my face, and I'll feel like I've grabbed an electrical fence. Every part of me is ice cold, which typically lasts for quite awhile, and I get trapped inside my brain. It's similar to the moment that someone jumps out and scares you half to death. What do I say to him? He actually asked me that point blank and expects me to answer it while we're laying in a bed with each other alone in a cabin in the woods with no one around for probably miles. What if I say yes and he starts something that we can't finish and it goes wrong and ruins everything? What if everything I've built here goes down in flames because of it? What if I have an attack? What if Rob and Jon come back and we're......and they catch us? What if he asks as a joke and I give him a serious answer? I don't want to risk this.   
"M-" I give my head a slight shake to clear it so I can try speaking. "Why do you ask?" I ask him very quietly, hoping to sound like I'm not as nervous as I am.   
"Curiosity." He answers still sounding rather playful.   
"Are you really asking me that or are you trying to be funny?" I manage to sound somehow confident which I am, again, thankful for.   
"I'm genuinely asking you." He answers. Great. Okay, play it off. Play it off and act confident.   
"Yeah, I do." It gets nearly impossible to breathe after I say this. "Is your curiosity satisfied?" I ask awkwardly.   
"Not quite." I actually look at him now, just a glance that I can't help, and see that's got a devious smirk on his face and his head is tilted to make the look seem much more flirtatious. No fuckin way you're actually making a move right now. When I see the way he's looking at me, I have to look away down at the bed so I can get my brain back online. And what, pray tell, do YOU think we should do about it. I should say that, it would be funny. But I don't know if I can talk right now. Try. Silence is not the move here. Right. I clear my throat and try to speak.   
"Suddenly this trip is feeling more and more like an elaborate rouse for you to get me alone with you." I say jokingly, though at this point I half believe it. Somehow this gets him laugh.   
"I promise you it isn't. Am I making you atoll uncomfortable?" He asks. I shrug.   
"No. Just....."I narrow my eyes to look for the word I need. "Not uncomfortable, are you?" I ask. He chuckles but doesn't answer, and when he doesn't I look at him only to see that his face is getting closer to mine. It terrifies me so much in the moment that I don't process it properly until he's already started to kiss me.   
These situations have never been overly smooth on my part. The way I'm built makes me freeze up when intimacy comes into play. As soon as anything happens my body tenses and won't allow me to move for a good few seconds, and in this case that fact hasn't changed. He kisses me and it's all I can manage to keep breathing. I have one hand supporting my head while the other is relaxed in front of me. Once the kissing starts both hands ball into fists tight enough that they almost start to shake. Breathe. Breathe. It okay, just breathe. He's very gentle and only touches his lips to mine at first. His beard, which is honestly just glorified stubble if we're being honest, tickles my face at first, but even in the short few seconds that follow, start to make things itchy. The position we're in isn't a comfortable one in any way for kissing, either, as I'm on my stomach with both of my arms in front of me, and he's sort of on his side facing me leaning on his own hand for support while the other is between us on the bed. I have a hard time getting myself to unfreeze and respond to him, but I can't do much more than kiss him back and try not to stop breathing or freak out, since that would make me look pathetic AND spoil the mood he has going.   
This moment only lasts a few seconds before changing. The hand he's got between us moves over my back, then up it until it stops just below the space between my shoulder blades and he pulls me towards him. The action is very alarming at first since, despite his size, it makes me realize that he's actually strong. I react instinctively by putting the hand that I'd not been using against his chest and grabs onto his shirt tightly. My other hand has yet to be able to move. His other hand, however, moves over to the back of my neck and manages to get me even closer to him. Being pulled to him gets me off my stomach and onto my side for the most part so we're almost flush with each other now. He makes me feel genuinely dizzy when he opens my mouth with his and deepens the kiss, though this allows me to get a good full breath of air that's desperately needed. Fuck. My body finally allows me to react to him and I wrap my free arm around his neck while continuing to use my other arm to support my head.   
When he gets me to start moving and knows that I'm not fighting against what he's doing, he's starts to get a bit more aggressive with the kissing, pulling me closer to him, then rolling on top of me. He's a big guy so this action is very weird at first before we settle into the position that most people take when kissing like this, that being him between my legs with both my arms around his neck and him supporting himself with his arms so as to not crush me. Something I never understood about myself is that I love being in a position that restricts my movement. Not necessarily tied up kind of restriction, but being pinned like I am now in a way. The moment is very weird when looked at from the outside. There's a large guy atop a much smaller girl making out with her while an action movie plays on a laptop just above their heads on the bed, all of this happening in a two bed bedroom in a cabin in the woods. It's the perfect set up for a horror movie, really, apart from some other elements such as a power outage or being stranded, though technically we are stranded here since Jon and Rob took the car when they left.   
"Are you alright with this?" He asks me after maybe a minute or two of kissing that has continued to get more and more aggressive. I don't open my eyes for fear of seeing him see me, though we've still got our heads together so it's not as if either of us would really be able to see anything. I don't know. I don't know if this should be happening right now or not, it feels so weird and if it goes wrong it could ruin so much for me here. I worked really hard to get here. "Charlotte?" He asks while sounding quite concerned. Luckily I'm not about to have a panic attack, which is quiet impressive for me, so I can try to answer him.   
"Yeah. You.....okay with it?" I ask breathlessly. The question gets him to laugh before kissing me again.   
"Gods no. What makes you think I'm alright with this? I'm only on top of you." He jokes.   
I huff out a pathetic laugh. Yeah I guess that was a stupid question. That was a monumentally stupid question. I should probably say something here, shouldn't I? Just....not to make it awkward- MORE awkward. Thankfully enough for my braindead mind, he doesn't give me time to talk again before kissing me again. I'm okay with this. This is preferable to trying to speak to you right now. Doubt I could if I tried. One thing about me that annoys the shit out of me in these situations is that I'm extremely ticklish. I believe that it stems from the fact that I don't like being touched and the lack of physical contact has conditioned my body to react very sensitively to touch. Almost every part of my body aside from my arms and face is ticklish. I bring this up now because he tries to make things more intense by running one of his hands over my body, only the intention he's going for doesn't exactly work out because of just how ticklish I am. My body reacts how you'd expect in that I let out a very odd huff and grab his wrist quite hard. Fuck. I always hate doing that, it's stupid.   
"You're fuckin ticklish." He says with a very amused laugh, pulling himself back to give me a devious look, that I respond to by gripping his write harder.   
"If you're intending to exploit that just be warned I will probably hurt you by accident." I warn. He narrows his eyes at me and looks between us at his hand that I've got in a vice grip.   
"Jesus Christ you're much stronger than I've been lead to believe." I take a few breaths to give him time to ease the tension and worry that he's going to try to tickle me again before loosening my grip and speaking again.   
"Sorry." I say quietly, beginning to pull myself from underneath him. It's not out of discomfort or anything negative, I just need to breathe and having a grown man on top of me makes that a bit of a challenge. He allows for this action and rolls onto his side while I sit up and cross my legs. "That was....uh...unexpected." I admit awkwardly. The movie is still playing, and by now it's gotten about midway through the first fight scene. I hate not paying attention to movies that I love, and I grab the computer to start the movie over again. Greg laughs at my comment.   
"In a good way I hope." He says. I look at him, smile and nod.  
"Trust me you'd know if it weren't in a good way." In that you'd be bleeding on the floor in pain, and I'd be gone. No touches me that I don't approve without getting fucked up for it. In my life I've only had to exercise this three times, and two of them were on the same person in the same week. Nothing too bad happened in this instance, they just tried kissing me and I kicked the crap out of them for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?


	8. The Kiss P2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting saucy up in this bitch

"Should I not have done that?" He asks me after a few quiet minutes of us just watching the movie. This movie is great and I love it, but it doesn't really provide much opportunity to distract very well from the outside world. The room is still thankfully quite dark so he doesn't see that my hands are still shaking from what we just dd. I allow myself to take a few moments to breathe before answering him.  
"Only if you regret having done it." I answer quietly. There's always that crippling doubt in situations like this that make me feel quite sick about what the answer may be.   
"Good. Then I don't have to feel bad for having done it, then. We've an hour before they come back......" He trails off but doesn't do anything after that, leaving it open for me to make the move. Oh. Yeah okay I guess that's true. Gods.....What do we want to do here? I mean.....sex could be great and I WANT to fuck him, but do I want more than that or would sex be fine? I'm not good as casual shit.   
"At the risk of ruining the mood, I believe you're skipping a good few steps here, Gregory." I say nervously. It's obvious I'm extremely nervous in that my voice is shaking, and it annoys the shit out of me. He grunts and sits up before moving to sit next to me, and I'm not entirely sure why but it makes me more anxious in the situation.  
"Well we COULD go out, and I could get you a good meal at a fancy restaurant, and we could talk for hours about ourselves. And don't get me wrong, I'd love to take you out, but we'd have to wait the rest of the weekend before I could do that. Considering what's just transpired, and the fact that I'm nearly positive waiting the weekend wouldn't make much of a difference in the desire, we could cut through the bullshit. See if we can enjoy the physical aspect of this a bit before getting serious about anything. Isn't that what your generation does now?" He asks. All of this is said while he's going between staring at me, then back at the computer. He also sounds very flirtatious in a way that, if said by anyone else, would be really creepy. It all sounds pretty good right up until the mention of my generation. It annoys me when people talk about my generation like we're soulless.   
"Again, at the risk of ruining the mood, doing shit because you think it's how my generation does it is bullshit and.....quite frankly insulting? Sex has always been looked at as fuckin......every generation does it like that in one way or another. And while your offer is......good? I guess? It's sus as fuck." My voice doesn't at any point stop shaking while I speak, but this isn't just because of the nerves, I'm also angry. Not only because he's obviously only wanting to fuck me, but because I despise people defining their friends by the generation they come from. This isn't to say that there isn't generational differences, there absolutely are, but it's more relevant in groups than individually.   
"Sus?" He asks. For whatever reason his confusion makes me laugh.   
"Suspicious." I clarify. I've been saying it for about a year now and can't seem to break the habit. Maybe I'm being too aggressive about this. Too defensive. I should just enjoy a good thing, right?   
"I apologize for making you think that's what I was intending to do. What I meant by this is we're here sharing a room in a cabin, I don't see any reason not to take full advantage of that. I do intend to get to know you more, Love." I almost flinch when he does the cliché move of moving some hair from my face to try to catch my eyes. I've decided that instead of looking at him, since it's too dark to really see him anyways, to keep my focus on the movie. If this doesn't go my way, at least he'll not think it fucked me up too much.   
"What is it you all always used to say? Anticipation?" I shoot back at him trying desperately to get back the fun flirtatious nature the conversation had before I overreacted to it. He laughs at this, thankfully.   
"You're a little shit, aren't you?" He asks, making me grin again. Yeah I absolutely can be. "I don't mean to sound as if I'm pressuring you, but is there a reason you don't want to take advantage of the time we have now?" He asks. I shrug.   
"Kind of just gotten used to doing......the whole.....go out before fucking? I don't know to be honest." I admit. I do want him, but the fear is that he'll fuck and run me. Even IF we're stuck here for three days. "I'm for it. If you actually want to, but I don't take charge." I blurt after a few seconds of quiet again. Something I have a hard time admitting but is extremely relevant. I don't have the confidence to take charge in any way, I'm bad at it, and it's just a terrible time for everyone if I'm given control. He puts his arm around my back again after I speak and gets closer to me. Again my anxiety spikes, but goes through the roof when he has me turn my head so I'm facing him. I hope this is the right decision. Genuinely.   
"That's not a problem for me." He mumbles before pretty rapidly progressing the moment forward.   
He gets close to me, making it evident what he's going for, and I allow him to move us so we're laying down and he's once again on top of me. Now, because he's as tall as he is, we're at the head of the bed laying across is diagonally, and I still doubt he completely fits on the bed. I can't believe this is really happening. I mean this is......crazy. Will we have time to do this before they get back? Will they know what happened when they get back? Gods honestly I could give a shit right now. It's been a long time since I've been anywhere near this kind of contact, and feels very weird, but when he grinds himself against me I'm surprised by the sensitivity I've got because it feels amazing. Maybe amazing is a strong word in the reality of it all, but in the moment it genuinely does seem to feel amazing. We're both instantly much more breathy when he starts to grinding on me. I dig my nails into the back of the shirt he's wearing and hold on probably a bit too tightly. He's got an arm braced by my head while the other is in my hair holding me down. It hurts just a little bit, but it still really hot while he's doing it.   
It surprises me when he bites my bottom lip, to the point that I let out a small grunt of confusion that's quickly followed by both of us laughing. Then he quietly groans after grinding on me a few more times a bitter harder. He's wearing jeans which, before now, I hadn't realized were tight on him. They showcase how much this is getting to him, which makes everything much hotter for me. It's always weird when I realize that I can have htis affect on someone else. As if it's unrealistic for me to think it would be possible. He continues to kiss me for awhile, grinding on me every now and then and eliciting either a strong exhale from me or a small groan from him. He's exceptional at what he's doing, as I've never really gotten this worked up from simply grinding and making out. He continues to do this for long enough that I'm genuinely shaking underneath him. My mouth starts to hurt after awhile, my lips burning most likely from all the mixing saliva from the both of us, and even my jaw hurts a bit.   
"Yoo! We're back! Get out here and help us unload!" Rob yelling suddenly scares the shit out of me. Granted I don't really get the space to react other flinching really hard because Greg's still on top of me, and his weight sort of pins me down, and the kissing has gotten in the way quite a bit to making any kind of noise. But he laughs at my reaction and quickly gets off of me.   
"Gods shit fuck." I sit up and quickly smooth over my hair that I know is completely fucked from him using it to hold me down, or just moving his fingers through it. I look at Greg, who's very amused at the fact that we've been making out for an entire forty minutes without realizing it. I clear my throat and get off the bed to go help Rob get the groceries out of the car.   
"Hold on." Greg says before I can get the door open. I frown and turn to look at him very confused as he walks to me and starts to fix my shirt. I'm wearing a baggy tee shirt and coat, the coat having been buttoned before is now unbuttoned and halfway down both of my arms. After fixing the coat, he goes to fix my hair. He has to reach around to pull out the tie that's been in it keeping up out of my face. I genuinely forgot that it'd been up prior to this because of just how much is now down and messily in my face. Fuck. I almost went out there like this? Actually? I'm a moron. He smiles at me once he's finished, and watches me put my hair back up in a way that not nearly as obviously messed up as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short, new chapter out tomorrow potentially


	9. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most boring drinking game around

"Do you think they got murdered while we were out?" Jon asks just as I open the door to go help them. I take a very deep breath to steady myself before putting on a calm mask and smiling at them both.   
"Careful there, Jonathan, you almost sound like you're in favour of that outcome." I say sarcastically. I'm still quite out of breath, but I manage to hide it relatively well by forcing myself to take deep breaths despite my body begging me to pant. Jon looks at me and tilts his head. "Jesus fuck, Rob, do you plan on being here for months?" I ask Rob when I get outside to the car to help him unload it. The trunk is full of shit he's gotten, at least three bags full of food, a large case of water, and a considerable amount of alcohol and a few other types of drinks I'm not sure of, yet.   
"You know I like to be prepared." He responds sarcastically.   
It's not untrue, he and I share that trait of wanting to be prepared for things to happen. When we were arranging the trip for me to come here we went through several hypothetical scenarios of what we'd do the in the event of something bad happening. The trip itself wasn't all that thought out other than knowing which major places and things I wanted to or needed to see while I was here, but we'd go through what would be smartest if, for example, there were a terror attack; Or if I lost everything I brought with me. I think it was more for fun than anything else, but this amount of preparation is a bit of an overreaction. Regardless of this, I grab two of the three bags, which are paper and require my entire arm to carry just one, nevertheless two. Okay. Unpack this shit and give yourself time to fully calm down. They can't know what just happened, it would be far too weird and probably would make them uncomfortable. I know, I know. I glance at Greg when he comes in with the case of water and two of the three cases of beer. He's already looking at me, and when we lock eyes for half second he winks at me. This is so fucking weird.   
"Right. I suggest a drinking game to kick things off, what do ya say?" Rob asks us as we're putting everything away in the refrigerator and cabinets. Drinking game. Rob you're genuinely starting to sound like a frat guy, who plays those once they've left fuckin college?   
"I'm always game to get shitfaced and make myself a fool." Jon's sarcastic answer eases my anxiety a bit. And I don't drink. Not that you know that, yet, Rob, but I really am not a fan of it, it's tedious and never really tastes good.   
"You don't need to be drunk to make yourself a fool, mate." Greg says very plainly, but it gets us all to laugh though Jon still looks insulted very slightly. "What drinking game?" Greg asks. I put away the last of the food and turn around to lean against the refrigerator while they talk. It could be fun. You don't have to get shitfaced if you don't want to, but you need to stop restricting what they're allowed to do just because of comfort. None of these guys would hurt you if you were drunk, you can trust them. That's never been what I'm worried about. I've never been drunk before but I imagine I'll be either completely checked out or pissed off, both of which would be humiliating after the fact. Seeing how drunk people are is hard enough, but knowing that's what happens only furthers my disdain for it.   
"Poker. What else?" Rob answers as he sets down a rack of poker chips on the island counter. Fuck poker. POKER. I'm not great at it but I do enjoy it.   
"I'm in, but only if we play BullShit." I say quickly. It's my favourite card game to play in a group setting simply because it's about deception and being able to read people. I can sort of count cards, too, which helps me nearly always win. Granted the rules of the game make it a challenge to truly be able to count the cards played and at play accurately but I'm still halfway decent at it.   
"Bullshit? What the fuck is bullshit?" Greg asks me. Shit. I look at the other two to see if they know what I'm talking about, but they all collectively look confused as fuck.   
"Uh....shit." I sigh. "Basically you deal the whole deck out as evenly as possible to everything, and then you have to discard you cards in numerical order? Like.....if I put down all of my aces, the next person has to say they're playing two's, and it goes on like that until the game is over. But you don't always have to actually play those cards-"   
"OH you mean Cheat. I love that game. Holy shit, it's been a hot minute since I've heard that game being played. How would you turn that into a drinking game? Drink if you're called out on a Cheat?" Rob asks me. The other two remain confused for a few moments before it clicks in Greg's head. Jon doesn't at any point show recognition for the game.   
"Uh....." I close my eyes to remember how I played last time. "Yeah. But we could make it more interesting if it's more than one shot per card. I put down three, get called out, and whoever's wrong has to take three shots?" I ask. They all laugh.   
"That would hammer the lot of us before we finished the first game." Rob replies. Oh. Shit. Yeah that's true I guess, that's a lot of alcohol for sure.   
"Then yeah, probably better to do it that way, sorry, I'm braindead." I mutter awkwardly.   
"Alright, everyone take a seat at the table. Who wants to deal?" Rob asks. We all go to the dining table, me sitting with my back to the corner of the room, Greg sitting to my right with Jon on his right and Rob to my left. I take the cards he tosses on the table and remove them from their box so I can start shuffling them.   
"Someone needs to explain the rules to me, I've no idea what this is." Jon says, making me smirk at his tone. He's never been annoying to me, even knowing he's uptight and high maintenance, his humor just manages to hit me in the right place every time.   
"So.....I will deal these out evenly, Rob will start because he's to my left and we go clockwise. He has to put down an ace since that's the first number in the hand. We have to determine if the card or cards he's put down are actually aces or not. If someone doesn't believe him, they call BullShit and he has to show us the cards he put down. If they're aces, the person that called him out has to take the discard pile. If they aren't aces, HE has to take the discard pile." I explain this while dealing the cards out after having shuffled them five times. Despite how it was described earlier, we're not all sitting on one side of the table next to each other. Rob has a chair between us and is facing Greg, who's opposite him. Jon is just barely not across from me, but has the space of two empty chairs between him and Greg. Greg is the only one of them sitting rather close to me.   
"Alright then. When he goes and his turn's over, do I play for aces or two's?" He asks me.   
"You play two's. I don't know how you guys play it here, but when I played it before we would sometimes lie about the amount of one card we had. Like......we'd have more than one of a number but only played one of that number, or that number and another number to fake people out. So we want to do that now or no?" I ask them all. All the cards have been dealt and I begin to sort through mine.   
"We played it similar to that when I played." Rob answers. He sets his cards down on the table, the entire hand, and goes to the kitchen to grab shot glasses from a cupboard, and a bottle of tequila. Ah fuck, not that shit. I hate tequila. .   
"Can you get me the vodka please? I'd rather not feel like my face is melting." The first time I ever had it, I was seventeen and had a really good friend that let me try it. I took about a half shot of it and it was so disgusting and painful that my entire face has lit up like a fucking Christmas tree and I haven't touched the shit since.   
"Here you are." He sets the vodka down by me. To my complete joy, it isn't just straight vodka, it's vodka that tastes like fruit loops, which is my all time favourite alcohol. The sensation of drinking it is like pouring gas down my throat and lighting it on fire, but in a way that only burns a little bit. It's the coolest feeling in the world, and it tastes fuckin great.   
"Okay, Rob you give it a go, we'll use this round to teach Jon to play so he understands it. If that's alright." He nods. "Cool. So show us your hand when you make the play." I order him. He does so and grabs the one ace he has in his hand. "So he's first, meaning he places the aces. Now.....for me...." I show my hand. "I have the other three here. If he'd lied about the amount I would know in an instant and call bullshit. And show us your hand?" I ask Jon. 

"You've a fuckin tolerance of a god! Are you even drinkin?" Rob complains to me through slurs.   
He, Greg, and Jon are all quite blasted while I'm only a bit tipped. This isn't because I'm good at the game or doing well at all, it's just because I have a massive tolerance for drugs. I could probably get through most of this bottle before getting truly drunk. It's a thing that I can do that literally has no explanation because there's not a single other person in my family that shares my ridiculous tolerance. Not that I'm complaining or anything, it means that people that try to drug me typically only get me zooted and I still win, but it takes quite a bit to get me drunk, a fact that I don't really share with people because they take it as a challenge. And I'll get sick before I get drunk. They've been well into being plastered for awhile now, and it's begun to make me uncomfortable seeing them slowly and progressively losing control over their bodies and words. It's hilarious at times, but me being me I hate it every time they take another drink. I'm, again, not entirely sober, and I'm starting to really feel myself getting drunk and I hate it.   
"Lucky enough for you boys I'm bout ready to bounce." I say clumsily after taking my next shot, and hopefully my last shot. This game is just about done and I'm not comfortable continuing to drink after this. I need to get some writing done, anyways. It's been the entire day and I haven't gotten a single thing done on it, which is basically blasphemy to me.   
"I'm puttin down.......four Jacks." Greg mumbles. They got annoyed with going clockwise and reversed it a few games ago for.....whatever reason. I laugh at his blatant lie and put the bottle of tequila, that's nearly empty, towards him.   
"Bullshit, the Jacks are all put down already. Fuck-er." I say with a laugh. Drunk people are terrible liars.   
"Ahhhhh! God damnit!" He complains, instantly downing the shot and taking the discard pile. We're at Jon now, who only has a card left and I'm almost positive he's about to win. I'd almost instantly call bullshit on him putting down the last of his cards but I very much just want to end the game.   
"Two Queens. And if you think I'm lyin, you can suck your own cock." Jon slurs. He's all but falling asleep in his hand at this point. I think we're all pretty tired to be honest, we've been playing for a few hours now. The thing is, I'm not actually that tired I just really want to get away from people for awhile. If anything, I'll be up half the night writing. Being around people for this long, though, is exhausting. Being around anyone at all for an extended period of time is exhausting.   
"Right mate, you put down three last game." Greg complains. PLEASE don't keep me here any longer. I look at him and try as hard as I can to convey to him to shut the fuck up so I can leave. He is already hesitating on calling BullShit, looking at me and Rob curiously almost as if he's either asking us for our opinion, or just trying to hold suspense. Just let him win you prick. I raise my eyebrow at him while screaming internally for him to let it go. He meets my eyes for the third time before tilting his head and shrugging. "I'm fuckin plastered, I don't know what I'm sayin." He mutters. Good boy, thank you. I nod and put my hand down on the discard pile and get up from the table.   
"Rad. Jon, you're fuckin way too good at lying. Have a good night guys." Rob and Jon both nod at me without really looking up from the table. I can get some work done. I doubt they're going to all go to bed now, it's not that late at all. What? Ten? I close the door behind me and realize that I never closed my laptop before shit happened, and it's dead. "Oh fuck off, I'm not that stupid am I?" I ask myself, already knowing I am, in fact, that stupid. I huff at myself and get out the charger for the laptop and plugging it in. Thankfully it turns on almost immediately, but scares the crap out of me by beginning to play the movie on it again at full blast. "Fuck off. Fuck off." I quickly unlock my computer and pause the movie so I can get it to shut up before trying to get everything set up. Music would probably be better than a movie. I wonder if we have internet here. If we do I'll pull up a playlist I haven't heard before so I can just...tune out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I just got a new job and am tired but will keep posting.   
> What do you guys think?


	10. The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun rises on a new dawn...

"Morning." Greg greets upon seeing me emerge from the bedroom. It's about mid morning and I'm completely freezing cold, and just as irritated as always when I wake up in the morning. I look at him, nod, and sit down next to him at the table while promptly putting my head down on it. This amusing Greg quite a bit. "You can't possibly be hung over, you hardly got drunk." He says while running a hand over my back. I grunt. The possibility of being hung over hadn't occurred to me at all, actually.   
"Not. Tired." I mutter, looking up to see if anyone else is awake yet but not seeing them. "Where's.......they still sleeping?" I ask him. He's got a cup of tea, something that makes me smirk seeing simply from the stereotypical-ness of it. He nods and I lay my head back down. I should go back to sleep. You need to call. But I wanna fuckin sleep. Call. You have a schedule to keep. Fuck off.   
"Why are you awake so early? Was I mistaken in hearing you say you never wake up before noon?" He asks me still sounding amused. I shrug.   
"Gotta make a call." I answer, begrudgingly getting up from the table and going to the front door with my phone. The shittiest part of moving here, and it's probably the only thing I hate, is that I left my family behind in America. Wait. I pause just before I get to the door, then turn around and go back to the table. "I lied." I mumble. We're eight ahead of them, I don't call until ten TONIGHT, not in the morning. Greg laughs at me again.   
"You really aren't a morning person." He says very amused. Nope. I hate waking up completely. I'm terrible at it.   
"I'm barely a person, Gregory." I mutter. I should go back to sleep. I would very much like to continue to sleep. "Don't tell me you're a morning person." I look at him still keeping my head on the table, and he shakes his head.   
"Not atoll. But I imagine there won't be much time for me to sit in quiet while we're here, and they're going to get us plastered right up until the moment we head home." Oh shit he wants to be alone. I'm terrible.   
"Sorry. I'll.....I gotta get back to sleep anyway." He grabs me around my waist just after I get past him, almost putting me off my balance and making me trip.   
"You don't need to leave if you don't want to, darling." He says. It's weird that him sitting down puts him below me when I'm standing, but only barely. I purse my lips and nod.   
"It's way too early to be human, Gregory. Imma pass back out. Wake me up if you guys, you know, start getting murdered." I remove his hand from my waist and walk away back to the bedroom. I woke up and WOKE UP just to fuckin realize it was too early to call and probably looked really stupid in front of him. Good on me. I'm genuinely a moron. I'm not even that tired anymore. I mean I'm tired but I'm not going to be able to pass back out, yet. You could write. Not this tired I can't. It'll be barely understandable when I'm half asleep and try to write.   
The boys were awake for another few hours after I left them last night, which I won't lie felt really shitty on my part. I hate leaving a group before it's time for them to disband. The terribly selfish part of me hates that they still have fun, or sometimes have more fun, once I'm gone. It was hilarious listening to how loud they would get with their laughter. The other part of me hating leaving things before everyone else does. It feels as if I'm missing out on everything that's happening, and no one really gives a shit whether or not I'm there. It's not just me that experiences this by any means, I believe just about everyone goes through this and there's nothing really wrong with it. But it still makes me feel like a permanent outsider no matter where I am. It's something that's literally always been a problem for me. Now that I'm here, and I have no one to rely on BUT my friends, it's terrifying. I'm afraid to take a wrong step that might compromise my place here, and if that happens I'll just be alone in a country where I have no one and I can't just go home.   
It wasn't a bad night or anything after I left them. I enjoyed listening to them have fun while writing some more in my new series. But every now and then when they'd erupt into laughter, for the briefest of moments, my soul felt like it was being sucked into the same black hole that makes me want to stop existing completely. Regardless of this, they continued to get plastered and play BullShit for a few hours before all deciding to go to bed before they made complete fools of themselves. When this happened I have to admit that it was extremely nerve wracking since I'm sharing a room with one of them, but Greg just came in and all but fell face down onto the bed and passed out. It was amusing to say the least. But this is when I left to do my writing in the living area so my work wouldn't keep him up or wake him up, not that it's overly likely to have happened considering just how zonked he'd been. I was up until just before 4 when it seemed like a good idea to try to pass out.   
"Thought you were goin back to sleep?" Greg asks me genuinely curiously when I come back out and sit just in front of the fire place. I turn it on, then return to the bedroom to get my large quilt for more warmth. I'm not one that actually hates the cold, but in the morning it's very annoying to me.   
"Uh......" I shrug at him before taking my seat on the floor again. He's obviously very amused seeing me wrapped in the large blanket. I'm already a small person, but wrapping me in a large blanket just makes that about a hundred times more prominent. "Woke up a bit too much I guess. You mind me being out here?" I ask him. As a reasonable person I know very much that it shouldn't really matter if he minds since it's a public space. I shouldn't need permission to be in the living room. But I'm far too used to being considered in the way the point that I hate occupying the same general space with someone else.   
"Of course not, darling." He answers. Good. I open my laptop and begin to bring up my writing project. I genuinely don't intend to write too much on it, but having it closed makes me anxious, like I'll forget it exists if it isn't always staring at me. I discovered that we do, indeed, have internet here. It's not great by any means, but it's something. Just barely enough of a connection to get my music website up, or watch a movie if it's exceedingly shit in quality. I connect my earbuds and start to reread the last few pages of the current book I'm writing.   
Something that I don't know how to feel about, is the fact that I will reread my own stories sometimes for fun because they're just that good to me. It feels incredibly narcissistic to enjoy it as much as I do, but there's all of one person on the planet that makes me feel less shit for doing this. He is an actor/comedian/singer. He'd told a story about how he would listen to his own music because he loves it, and the people around him called him vain for this. His response was, if you make food and you eat it no one thinks bad of you. You made it. You made it how you like it. How are you okay with ridiculing me for enjoying only some of the things I create? If I write a story it's a story that I want to be in. Most of the time I genuinely want to be the person or people I write, and the scenarios I put them through are done in the way that I would want them to happen to me. Before I published my books I was writing them for myself as an escape. There shouldn't be anything wrong with enjoying the things you create as long as it's in a healthy way. Obsessing over them and stating they're the best thing to ever bless the universe is weird, but just enjoying it isn't.   
He's currently trying to figure out what's going on around us, as am I. I read this line and get reminded of a scene I wrote in another book in the series, and I pull it up quickly so I can reread that scene. I do this to a comical amount when I'm reading my own books. I'll read a scene, most of the time to remember what happened to maintain continuity, and in the process of looking for this scene I'll get distracted by another scene that I'll read through, reminding me of yet another scene that amuses me to no end, then to another scene. It can go like this for hours with me, and by then I'll have opened fifteen different mountainous documents and will not have found the original scene I was looking for. It's most common with the first series I published, since that's the one I poured my heart and soul into for several years. It was also the series that was the hardest to publish. As stated, it's my heart and soul. Showing it to the world is akin to eviscerating myself and trusting the world to help put me back together.   
"You're workin on a new series?" I hear Greg only barely over my music. He scares me, annoyingly enough, when he comes over and sits on the couch across the table from me. I'd had my back to him at first but once he came over I turned around to be more comfortable. I take an earbud out, pause my music, and nod. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I haven't read the first series. What's it about?" He asks me. I'm not insulted at all, Gregory. I'd be more surprised if you had read it.   
"Uh.....the first series?" I ask him. He nods, continuing to sip his tea. "Kind of everything? Science fiction primarily though, I think." I answer. It's a very hard thing to explain in a short amount of time. Describing what it is or what it's about doesn't make sense without the backstory to why I started to write it, and it never felt like just one thing to me.   
"Science Fiction? Space travel, then?" He asks. I laugh.   
"No not at all. Uh......it's....it's uh....kind of a hard thing to describe?" I ask him quietly. If you think that's weird, you should see the reasoning behind the next series I'm writing.   
It's honest to god fanfiction about my original series. When I started it, it was literally only supposed to be a very short drabble into what a few of my characters would do in a hypothetical zombie apocalypse, but I couldn't put it in the main series because it wouldn't make any sense. But then I thought, fuck it, it's my story and I can do what I want with the characters. I wrote a scene that expanded into a novella, and it's spiraled into a full series now. That one is about time travel and how the soul and body are interconnected across multiple universes. It's made me think that I might continue the trend of writing different fanfiction ideas that pop into my head from my own shit. If it gets published, it will come with the disclaimer that it's the same characters, but a different canon universe, and in no way should be associated to the previous series. If it goes well when it's published I'll keep going as long as I can keep the ideas flowing for the characters. I also have one other project that I'm working on, though it's a lot less thought out. I took another character from the main series and I wanted to write HER backstory because she's such a great character to me.   
The character's name is Pyat, and she's only very briefly in the main series. She's got maybe ten pages worth of content in the fifteen book series, and when I wrote her in I hadn't thought that I'd have fallen in love with her character so much. She is named Pyat, the Russian number five, because her parents never wanted kids to begin with so they just numbered them. She's also the only girl among her siblings. The backstory I gave here in the main series was that she was a captive and kept for sexual abuse for a number of years before another character, Hanfik, found out about it and took her away from the life. It wasn't because of love or desire on his part, he hardly feels emotions, but he was outraged at what had been happening to her. He 'bought' her, and gave her a job working as his direct assistant. Even that backstory is a lot to take in, but the book I want to write on it is the progression of how long she'd known him before he 'saved her', and how hard it was for them to get her out of the situation she was in. That book alone is taking me forever to write, for the reason that I am nothing whatsoever like her, so none of her behaviors or speech come naturally.   
"I don't mind a big explanation. I'll probably try readin them if they're my kind of book." He responds. Oh okay. Uh.......great. I'll....fuck.   
"So......sorry. It's really long. I started writing it to........." I sigh at myself while trying to find the words. "I wanted to create a group of characters that......they all have their own issues? Like....the main character has a panic disorder but she still saves a shit ton of people in spite of that? I wanted to write something that gave people the representation that even you're fucked up you can do good things?" He nods, looking very confused so far. "Uhm......" Fuck. I'm losing him already. Shit. "People describe it as Science Fiction because of the world around the characters and some of the shit that happens to them. Overall plot is that The Colony is attacked by an unknown outside entity, and it follows the story of how it progresses from there. Attack, injury, response, resolution? I'm so sorry, I'm terrible at describing what it is." He laughs at me when I say this, though he's probably more amused that I've covered my mouth with part of the blanket to shut myself up.   
"You say the main character has a what disorder? Panic?" He asks. I nod. "Normally main characters are based somewhat off the writer themselves." He is hinting at what he wants to say but looks a bit too nervous to full on ask it. I look away from him, down at my lap, and shrug.   
"Yeah." I say quietly. She was based off me. She's the one character that is completely based off me and me alone. She's also everything I WANT to be, too. Strong, dignified, loyal to the last breath, and she never concedes to her Disorder no matter how bad it gets. I wrote her into the story to prove to myself that even someone that can barely take care of themselves can still do great things, and I'd never had that before for me. People need to know that they can do shit in spite of the mental illness. But it's also written to help people that don't understand mental illness in full, and just how much it can limit you. I tried to convey both sides as much as possible so they made sense, and from the feedback I've gotten so far, it isn't too far off base from that.   
"I'm so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I need to avoid to set that off?" His question strikes a chord in me that almost instantly makes me want to cry. There are VERY few people that hear that and think to ask the question of how they can help avoiding it. I've only ever had two other people truly and completely accept my limitations, and they are to this day my favourite people. On is my mother, who may as well be a genuine superhero, and the other is a friend from college that I sadly don't talk to anymore.   
"Uh...." My thought gets cut off by my breathing hitching a few times. I clear my throat before shaking my head. "Not....really? I have it under control for the most part, and.....annoyingly the triggers can be really weird. Thank you for asking, though, you've no idea how....rare that is." I let out a slightly manic laugh, still trying not to look at him.   
The Panic Disorder that I have is a very annoying one in that there are a lot of things that can set one off that you can't really protect against. It's a big part of who I am as a person, and I typically let the relevant people know about it so they know that it can happen. Rob knows, obviously, but no one else in this country does because it doesn't affect them. The issue is that, when I was a very young kid, something really shitty happened to me that made it very hard for me to understand the difference of platonic physical contact and sexual physical contact. Being touched is a huge trigger for me, I absolutely hate it most of the time apart from when I'm with someone I fancy, Like Greg. I can't be in a crowd for very long, os trapped in a space with too many people, without being on the verge of an attack. I am grateful that I managed to stop having a panic attack if I'm with someone else and we're being intimate, thank fuck, but if it's anyone else it gets really bad for me. Having to explain it to people really sucks because I'm exceedingly bad at making it make sense to them. I can talk about it all day, though, if I'm allowed to do so by anyone.   
"Right, I'm sorry you're goin through that, darling. Just tell me this, is there a man out there somewhere that I need to slaughter for this?" He asks jokingly. We both laugh, though it's weak on both sides, and shrug. Yeah. There's a person out there that deserves to die for what they did, but no one fights FOR me, Gregory.   
"I elect not to answer that at this time. Sorry this went so dark, I was just explaining the series." He laughs again.   
"You've nothin to apologize for. What's the series called? I'd like to look it up and read it if you don't mind." He asks. I grin while my face heats up at the embarrassment of him wanting to read them.   
"Uh....I wouldn't mind it at all. It's called Living With Defeat. You don't have to read them, though, they're......I dunno. But don't feel obligated to read them?" I ask him. He gives me a devious smile.   
"I Fancy you, darling, but I couldn't be fucked to go through reading an entire series to impress a woman. Is that what you're workin on now? Another book for the series?" He asks, nodding to my computer. I shrug.   
"This....." I laugh. "Sort of? I'm writing the same characters but putting them in a completely different series if that makes sense? Like.....I dunno. No, it isn't a continuation of the main series. Sorry." I stop there and shake my head at myself. Moron.   
"You're writing fanfiction about your own characters?" He asks. WHAT. You know what fanfiction is? FUCK. I open my mouth to respond, close it when I realize I CAN'T respond, then try to open my mouth and give it another try.   
"Basically, yeah. What about you? What are you working on? Or are you in the middle of.......uh......" I frown. "I don't even know HOW to ask that question if I'm being honest, sorry." He shakes his head at me before sighing and responding to the question.   
"I've got my two big shows I'm on running opposite each other. Writing one an filming another. Tryin to get my next stand-up show set up an written." He answers. Two big shows? Are there more than one?   
"Are you in more than two shows?" I ask him, to which he nods.   
"A sitcom I thought up, Taskmaster that I write with Alex Horne, I guest in some others as well." He answers. Sitcom. Gods this is the last type of person I EVER thought I'd be attracted to. A comedian. A. COMEDIAN.   
"What's the......." I tilt my head trying to find the right question to ask. "Taskmaster. What's that one about?" I ask. I could give a shit about the sitcom, I hate them, but a gameshow is a bit less annoying to me to watch. British gameshows, or panel shows, always managed to genuinely make them fun. American show are way too serious.   
"I play a character known only as Taskmaster, with an assistant I constantly bully Alex Horne." I frown at this. Bully......didn't HE create the show? That IS what you said, right? "There are five other performers that are forced to perform numerous tasks throughout the season. Such as, destroy a cake in a beautiful way, or getting an egg in a hole witthout touching either." This, for whatever reason, makes me laugh.   
"Yeah? That......that sounds like structured torture. It's a full season? Of.....the same people?" I ask him. He nods.   
"Each episode they compete with each other, it goes on for around ten episodes. It's fuckin hilarious what you can get people to do." He answers. Yeah, I suppose it is.   
"And Alex created it?" I ask, to which he nods. "Why is it not him being Taskmaster? He willingly is okay with being bullied?" I ask him. The idea actually pisses me off, but that's a hairpin trigger reaction from me and I know it.   
"He describes himself as a very beta male type." He answer, which makes my stomach flip a few times at the implication that he thinks Greg is alpha.   
"Ah so he gets off on being abused, then. Wait.....does that make you a sadist, then?" I ask him jokingly. At this point I genuinely can't help being as flirty as I am, it's fun. He almost spits out the mouthful of tea when I ask the question, though, which has me needing to cover my mouth with the blanket to not laugh too loud. Me and my friends, when I had them back home, were always really open about sexual bullshit, mostly because we didn't want it to make us uncomfortable so we joked about it a lot. And me, I am into a lot of weird shit. But we got used to talking about it enough that talking about it with strangers can go one of two ways. One, it can make us exceedingly uncomfortable, or we don't realize that it's a taboo subject sometimes.   
"I don't enjoy hurting people. Though I will say there's a certain joy in having that much power over a group of people." Good. That means you have the traits of a dominant person, then. I kind of wanna watch that show now, I imagine you being in it will be pretty hot.   
"Mmm." I grunt while thinking about it. I feel like it would be a lot of fun being in that position. Not....sexually, I hate being in charge in those situations, but in the setting he's in it could be a lot of fun. "I haven't met Alex, yet, but I've heard he's a weird guy. So....what's his role? Like...a whipping boy?" I ask him.   
"That's probably the best way to put it, yeah. There are a lot of people assuming I'm enjoying torturing him, it took me quite awhile to really get into it." I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.   
"I.....doubt that very highly. You enjoy poking fun at people, getting a role that gives you the upper hand sounds like the perfect role for you." I admit quietly. It seems like a rude thing to point out, but I can't much hold myself back from saying it to him. But it makes him laugh.   
"I suppose that isn't entirely off base, but I'm not a prick. Alex had to continue to encourage me to be worse to him. He wanted the Taskmaster character to be a caricature. I'm not afraid to say I've stepped into the role quite well since the start." I nod while picturing it.   
"Gods, now I wanna see it. We don't....have any good shows like that in America. Is it....." I sigh. "How shitty does the treatment get? Like.....you don't beat him or anything right?" I ask nervously. Acting an abusive person isn't too far off the reality.   
"No of course not, we're not savages here. Despite popular opinion me and Alex are good friends." He answers. Good.   
"Cool. Then, yeah, I wanna watch it now, it sounds like fun. As long as you don't find it weird? Cause if it's good I'll probably watch the entirety of it in a day or two." I admit, again, nervously.   
"I certainly won't stop you, darling. Now, are you down there because you're cold or did I make you uncomfortable yesterday? That wasn't my intention if I did." The question catches me off guard, to the point that I stare at him for a good few seconds.   
"Not....not at all, no. If you do, you'll know. I'm not....." I laugh awkwardly before continuing. "As quiet as I am as a person, I promise you'll know if you're fucking up or making me uncomfortable. Am I making you uncomfortable at all?" I ask in return. He shakes his head.   
"Not atoll." He answers. Good. Now do we have to be in a serious mood or can we go back to having fun? "It's been quite a long time since I've gotten distracted by kissin a woman like I had yesterday. Got you worked up." He comments after a few quiet moments. I've started writing again, but his words for obvious reasons distract me quite a bit. Yeah that was.......fuckin amazing actually. And you really DID get to me, you're...really....good at that shit. Not that I've got a shit ton compare it to, but still it was really good.   
"Genuinely surprised the hour went by so fast." I admit quietly. There's been one other person that I'd made out with before for a pretty long period of time, but in that case it FELT like it took forever. For someone that enjoys making out with people that was the straw that broke the camel's back for me with that person.   
"Typically it feels like an hour and only lasts a minute. Imagine how long we could have taken had we not been interrupted." He says playfully. Gods you're far too hot for this early in the morning. I hate it a little bit. Would it have lasted that much longer? I mean it was pretty intense when they got back, and once things actually get started for real they don't tend to last very long.   
"Yeah." I say absently while trying to think back to the moment and live in it again. Realistically there's most likely not going to be much of a chance for us to do that again until we get home. And even then the likelihood of being able to is low since he's got a few different jobs. Me, I'm lucky enough to not have any real deadlines. This is good for me, but knowing how unlikely anything is to happen once we're home is a bit disheartening.   
"Dear god, how drunk did I get last night?" Jon exits his bedroom looking hilariously awful. He's pale, his face sunken in, and there are bags under his eyes. Yeah that actually looks like you're fucked. You drank the LEAST last night, didn't you? Because you were great at BullShit you barely drank at all how are you THIS hungover?   
"You were offensively drunk." Greg answers very amused. Offensively drunk? I love that description, that's a GREAT description. I don't remember him getting that drunk, though. Tired, sure, but not.....like....bad. Jon nods while looking dejected at the answer and walking down the stairs to the bathroom on the first floor. Both are on the first floor, though one is given to me and Greg in our room while the other is very oddly placed just ouside our bedroom door. "You left the group a bit early." Greg comments as if it's only just occured to him. I nod.   
"Alcohol isn't really my thing, didn't wanna be 'that friend' that isn't participating, if that makes sense." He nods at me completely understanding what I'm saying. "You were pretty zooted, that was....considerably more amusing than I was expecting." He frowns, but is amused by the description.   
"Did you expect me to be a dick?" He asks sarcastically. I shrug.   
"Sort of. That or....."I look him up and down. "Considering the way yesterday went.....more physical......." I answer quietly. I don't know you enough to have a real grasp on what you would be like for real. Give me this weekend and, obviously, I'll know who you are when you're drunk. I'm usually REALLY good at knowing what people are like drunk.   
"You don't have to worry about that with me, Love. I'm a fool when I'm wasted but I'm not ever going to hurt anyone." He offers, bringing the moment back into serious territory. I look at him and nod.   
"I know. Just....drunk people are......they flock to me and I hate it. But you were.....funny. You get really confident and loud, I wasn't expecting that to that extent. Jon is exactly what you'd expect, just...tired." I finish with a laugh.   
"Have you ever BEEN drunk?" He asks me. I look at him and shrug.   
"I have a really high tolerance so......no? I sort of get tipsy and then I get sick." I answer honestly. He laughs.   
"You got a bit drunk last night, though." He sounds like he's arguing, though I don't know if he is or not.   
"Sort of, I guess. That's about as bad as it gets for me, though, lucky enough. Think that's what this weekend is going to be? Just Rob getting us as dunk as he can? Be a pretty shit way to spend a weekend, honestly." I mumble the last bit, knowing that it's almost exactly how some people prefer to spend weekends sometimes. Especially guys.   
"Probably, I won't lie to you this is what we get up to when we leave the city on a trip. Not something you're into?" He asks. Jon comes out of the bathroom looking barely human and shuffles to the kitchen.   
"I've never done anything like this before." I admit. The heat from the fire is felt through the blanket now, so I let the blanket down off my shoulders to finally get warm for real, and it feels amazing. Fuck yes. So much better.   
"How young ARE you?" Jon are asks from the kitchen. Yeah. I was kind of wondering when that question was going to come into play here. Gods, I really hope you don't think this is a deal breaker, Greg.   
"I'm.......twenty two." I answer honestly and very quietly.   
"Jesus who the fuck invited an infant to the party?" Jon mutters. Great. I hate everything about being this young in this country. Which is bullshit because I've literally waited my entire like to be this age, granted it was the stupidest thing to be excited about being this age, there's no reason for it.   
When I was a kid, I wrote stories and my main character was always, without fail, twenty two. The reasoning for that was specifically because picking a milestone age seemed beyond ridiculous and annoying. I never really cared about age, but I was always excited to actually finally be the age I wrote my characters as. But now I'm here, in a place I always wanted to be, with people I never thought I'd get along with, and I'm back to being the youngest of the group. I'm a decade younger than them all at the very least. This fact alone is something that made it very hard to understand just why I got shanghaied into this group of people. Though, in a way, it's pretty amusing. I've quite literally always been the youngest of my group of friends no matter what group that's from. All through school, then after school, in college, and now. I've never been friends with anyone younger than me, though that's never been by design. Right now it's annoying primarily because of how large the age gap is. I know they're going to be weirded out by my age now, and I genuinely hate it.   
"Aren't you supposed to enjoy parties at your age? Or is that tradition passed by now, I wouldn't know, I'm ancient now." Jon asks. He fixes himself a cup of tea and joins us in the living area.   
"Yeah, isn't the age of getting plastered twenty one? You should be out partying every night?" Greg chimes in. Suddenly I feel as if I'm a kid again, and sitting on the floor while they're both on furniture only makes that feeling worse. I look between them before dropping my gaze back down to my computer to distract myself and to make them think I'm not actually bothered by the situation.   
"I don't see the appeal in parties to be honest. They're full of people being loud, and forgetting about personal space." I answer simply with a shrug. It's true. Parties never appealed to me in practice in any way. The thought and theory behind it always had a certain draw to it but with the issues I have with people and crowds mixed with being awkward in general, they aren't a good place to be. With this, I was never actually invited to a party either. They aren't anywhere near as common as they're made out to be, not in the least.   
"You get it." Jon says with a nod. Yeah, sort of, I guess. "I never liked parties myself, you see, and for someone as nerdy as me I never figured I'd get to go to a party." The statement makes me and Greg look at each other and smile.   
"I mean, no one here is surprised by that, Jon." I say sarcastically, making him narrow his eyes at me before shrugging his shoulders lazily and lean his head against one of his hands. Despite the fact that I drank half a bottle last night, I'm surprised I'm not hungover at all. I usually get at least a little hungover after drinking more than three or four shots worth. Is Greg hungover at all? Fuck, all of us should be fucked right now.   
"So you're twenty two, why are you hanging around old shits like us? We're ancient for you, or you must not have a life." Jon asks. Right. That's not entirely false, but I enjoy older people. Does beg the question of why they all accepted me into their group so easily, though. Or at all. I don't think I'll answer that question, it's not a great question. I look at Greg again hoping to see him not giving a shit about the fact that I'm so young, but I know that if he's a good person the age difference should bother him. He meets my eyes for a moment and smiles at me. There's a certain worry in his eyes, though, and it genuinely makes me feel a bit sick again.   
"Research. I'm curious how men in their middle-aged-ness spend their time when they get bored and have too much time on their hands." I answer with my attention being back on my writing project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay, I lost track of the days please forgive me. Just annoy the crap out of me if I do this again pls.


	11. The Conversation P2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff for now, updating again soon soon. Promise ;)

"Hell-ow." My mother's voice greets me happily.   
Since I moved here I've called her at least once a week to help with the fact that I can't just show up at her place and hang out anymore. That was the hardest thing about moving so far away, and even having ben here for a few months I still cry after nearly every call, and have to fight tears if I'm reminded that I'm alone here with nowhere to go if I need it. If something were to happen to her or my father while I was here it would probably completely shatter my soul. We have a scheduled call at ten at night at least once a week on Saturdays where we just check in and say hello to each other. Sometimes the call can last for hours because, despite the fact that she's my mother, she's the one person I can talk to about absolutely everything- except of course sex. It's not entirely the same with my father since we're identical when it comes to being awkward. I can tell him anything, too, but he never carries the conversation very far, and neither do I. It's not for any real reason other than us being terrible at it. I call him about once a month, but we email every few days.   
"Yoooo. Just forewarning, I'm in the middle of a forest so the signal might be sketch." I warn her. We talk on a weird platform, that being Snapchat. This isn't something I decided since I hate the app in it's entirety but she loves using it for the filters so she can goof off while talking.   
"Why are you in the middle of a forest? Are you camping?" She asks sounding and looking completely confused.   
"Rob invited me and a couple of others to get away for the weekend, but we aren't camping. Check it out." I turn the camera on and point the phone towards the cabin. "How's that for a cabin in the woods?" It's quite dark out due to the time of night and the clouds are black and covering the sky so no light can get through. The cabin right now is backlit by the lights inside, but since all the lights are on, it's evident that it's a two-story building.   
"Fuck that's a nice house. Who else is there?" She asks. She, unlike me, got super into English television after me and Rob became friends. She's seen most of the people I know and gushes about them all the time to me asking me if I knew this or that about them. It was and still is funny.   
"Me, Rob, Jon, and Greg." I answer. I didn't tell her that I liked anyone here, yet, since I didn't want her to be weird about it. It's the only thing I don't talk to her about anymore is people that I'm interested in.   
"Greg Davies?" She asks. Yup. I turn the camera back off and stare in the window of the cabin. The three of them are all in their rooms surprisingly enough. We spent the day walking around outside, watching movies, and playing various games; Though thankfully none of the games were drinking games. We all somehow got super tired doing all of this and Jon and Rob are sharing the couch watching another movie with each other while falling asleep doing so. Me and Greg are tired but not enough for sleep. I think for us, we're more drained than tired.   
"Yeah. Don't tell me anything, I wanna find out on my own." I order her. She huffs, but agrees.   
"Yeah yeah whatever. You should tell them I say hi." She says in response. I grin and nod. I would almost want to bring you in and introduce you to them, but that might be really weird to do. Everyone always thinks I'm weird to have a good relationship with my parents. She's met Rob already. She demanded to meet him before I took my first trip here just so she could get a feel for who he was as a person and figure out whether or not she could trust him with me. Since then, and since I've made friends here, I've introduced her to one other person and that's David Mitchell. He's her favourite comedian of the lot so far and all but begged me to introduce her to him.   
"Absolutely. So how's the week been?" I ask her. I look in the window of the cabin again to watch the three men in the living area watching the movie quietly, all looking about ready to pass out where they are. Greg sat on the chair when Rob and Jon stole the couch, but it's just a bit too small for him so he's moved to the floor in front of it, which I think is adorable.   
"Not much happening here, just tryin to occupy the time. Jon is about ready to kill his landlord." She answers. No, she's not talking about the Jon with me in the cabin, her best friend's name is Jon.   
"Yeah? I'm surprised it took this long to be honest." I say with a smirk.   
I want to be in there. I want to....fuckin lay down and put my head in his lap. SLUT. No no no not in THAT way you fuck. I just wanna have my head in his lap to relax. Me and him have been sharing looks at each other all day. Looks that make it hard to focus. We'd look at each other every few minutes and usually engage in a staring contest to see who'd look away first, and he made it his mission to undress me with his eyes. I'd think the dirtiest thoughts I could think up to challenge that, and so far I haven't lost a staring match. Every time there's been a realistic opportunity for him to get near me physically, he'd get quite close, but just barely not close enough. We've been making a lot of innuendoes comments, and slipping inside jokes into the casual conversations throughout the days that somehow haven't been picked up by the others as us very flagrantly hitting on each other. We haven't been alone or had the chance to be alone together, so it's all been very lowkey, but with how much we're working each other up it's starting to drive me crazy.   
"Is there anything new happening there? I didn't get to see the WILTY episode you were in, yet, did it go well?" She draws me back to the conversation I'd been tuning out unintentionally with her question.   
"Uh....yeah it was fun, I'm a master liar and they hate me for it." I answer her amused with myself. I still loved being on the show.   
"I knew you would be, you're too good at keeping a straight face- which is hilarious because you used to be a TERRIBLE liar!" She exclaims. This is true. The thing that always gave me away was the fact that if I was lying I was always smirking. Not out of arrogance or anything like that, it was just the thing that I accidentally did when I lied. Not entirely sure when I started to get good at it, either.   
"Yeah yeah whatever I know. They got super surprised last night. We were playing a drinking game and I wasn't getting drunk, they hated that." She bursts into laughter at this statement.   
"What drinking game?" She asks. I start to pace around while talking to her trying to enjoy the moment as much as I can. There's not much to talk about this week, so it'll probably be a short call, and those are the hardest ones for me mostly because it feels like my family is slipping away or something. I can already feel the pain in my chest coming back when I realize how short the call might be.   
"We played BullShit for a few hours. Every time someone called BullShit, if they were wrong they'd shoot a shot, but if they were right the person they called it on took a shot. I downed half a bottle of vodka and they didn't understand how I wasn't plastered. I think Jon's on the bandwagon of thinking I have superhuman abilities or something. How's Arizona? Is it getting cold there at all?" I ask her.   
We're from Oregon originally and neither of us had ever lived outside the state like we dreamed to. She had it worse because she had kids to worry about and couldn't realistically move us all down to her dream place in the desert. She went her whole life wanting to live there because she loves the heat of it but never had the option to. For the last ten years she's been saying she won't last another winter in Oregon, but every year that goes by something comes up that prevents her from leaving. When I got published and the series blew up, the first thing I did was help her move to Arizona. It wasn't all me, of course, I just gave her a push in the direction and paid for some of the expenses. We almost moved her to Hawaii, which was also on her list of places she'd love to live, but even with the mild success I have going for me right it was out of our price range, and it's a risky place to live, too. Arizona was the best decision ultimately. It's made a huge difference in her, too. She's happier, she does more, she gets out more, and she has a few good friends already despite only just having moved a few weeks ago.   
"Nope. The coldest it's gotten is sixty." She answers happily. Gross. Me and her two other children absolutely despise heat. The one thing I always used to tell myself was that I didn't care where I lived as long as it rained and was a big city, the rest didn't matter. Of course there were dream places to live like the cliché New York, and where I am now in the UK, but the only criteria I had to meet for sure were rain and city, the rest I could live without. My mother never understood her children for their taste in weather since she hates the rain and cold with what feels like her entire soul. "Is the new book going okay?" She asks after a few quiet seconds.   
"Yeah, I'm like three books deep right now? But that's all I'm saying about it." I answer her, pointing my finger at the phone as if she'd actually be able to see it. The first series I wrote, I told her almost every detail of it as I was writing it, which didn't affect the story or the writing process, but it made it harder for me to write unbiased. When I started the new series, just before I published that one, I decided that I wouldn't talk about it to anyone until it was finished and out of my hands. All she knows is that it's based off the last series.   
"Yeah I know." She pouts. "Has anything else happened or are you just wanting to go back to your vacation?" She asks. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths.   
"Nothing else really happened this week, I just sat around and got some writing done. I should be home I think tomorrow or the next day, I'll call you again then and tell you how the rest of the weekend goes?" I ask her. She looks a bit sad when I look at the screen and talk to her, but she nods.   
"Okay. Sounds like a plan. Have a good night, I love you."   
"Love you, too." The call ends and I force some more deep breaths through my system. Do not freak out. It's fine. She's not going anywhere, nothing bad will happen, I just need to breathe. We wont' lose touch, we wouldn't let that happen. I nod and head back inside, though I go past the men in the living area and go to the bedroom. Once the door is closed I turn the light off and go to my bed, then burry myself under my quilt.   
The separation anxiety isn't cut and dry at all. Though it isn't overly dark, either. When I was in college, my grandparents died and the responsibility of dealing with their estate fell on her. It wasn't sad to lose them, as we hated my grandmother with a passion, and I barely knew my grandfather to begin with. They lived in Portland, which was two and a half hours drive from where we lived. She'd make trips once a week to get the legalities settled, but since her brothers were genuine bad guys, it made settling the estate a nightmare. I always went with her on the trips as a bodyguard, mostly because she was going to Portland, not because of her brothers. But the one time she made a trip on her own she'd been attacked. I had to stay behind because there were so many exams I had to finish within the timeframe that I couldn't possibly have gone. I called her on my Friday not having known that she'd gone over to their house, and started to complain about random bullshit in my life at the time. When I got to asking her how she was, she told me that she went over the mountain to their house with one of my grandparent's friends, only to be attacked by her brothers. They'd beat her up pretty badly and put her in the hospital.   
At first I was terrified. She'd led in with the fact that she was hurt and in the hospital, then followed it up with what had happened. Her injuries weren't life threatening or overly disabling, either, but they were still pretty bad. There were two cuts that needed stitches, on on her right arm and another down her back, she'd had a concussion so bad that she permanently has to use three different prescription glasses to be able to see at certain distances, and there were bruises on her neck so prominent you could tell it was a hand that caused them. She told me what happened but didn't send me pictures or explain the injuries, she just said she was hurt but she was coming home and I shouldn't worry. Of course I put on the brave face of not being upset, but as soon as we got off the call I had a meltdown. The one time she'd gone alone she almost got beaten to death. All I could think was that if I were there I would have killed them before they had the chance to do what they did to her. Then I got pissed off that she went without me. Her rationale was that if nothing happened yet, she wouldn't need to worry about anything happening at all. It was just a day trip to check on the house. I know it's a terrible thing to think, even if it's just to myself, but I still haven't forgiven her for doing it, even if it isn't her fault she was hurt.   
"You alright darling?" Greg asks upon entering the bedroom. I hug the pillow to my chest tightly and continue to try to breathe. I'm not losing my shit or anything, I'm not even crying, but I know if I looked at him he'd know how upset I was. Go away, you shouldn't deal with this it's pathetic. I clear my throat to answer him.   
"Yeah. You?" I ask. It takes me a few seconds, maybe a minute, to get my composure back, and when I do is when I sit up to face him.   
"Did you get bad news? Is everything alright?" He sits on the edge of the bed looking at me with worry on his face. I shake my head.   
"No it-" I close my eyes when I throat closes again. Fuck being this emotion. Fuck not having control over this. This isn't happening in front of him. I clear my throat again. "Sorry. No bad news, it's fine. You crashing?" I ask him. If you are I might just go outside and climb a tree to be alone. Get this dark cloud away from their fun weekend.   
"No, I just got tired of listening to them fight over the next fuckin film. Are you sure you're alright? You look quite upset." He asks again. Jon and Rob have been going at it all day over what we should all do. Not in a malicious way, they're just playfully bickering with each other. It's quite amusing, actually.   
"It's really stupid." I answer quietly. What if something happens and I can't get there? I can't lose my parents, I wouldn't survive it.   
"Can't be stupid if it upsets you." He argues, making me smile and roll my eyes. "Seriously, you can tell me if you like." Gods. Why are you nice?   
"I just......" I clear my throat again. "Miss my parents. Keep thinking something is going to happen and I won't be able to get there to help them. Really stupid shit." I explain. He scoffs.   
"That's not atoll stupid, that's normal. You're an ocean away from them, that would be terrifying for anyone." He offers. I shrug.   
"You're not wrong. Still, sorry, I'm good now just needed to breathe a little. What movies are they arguing over?" I ask him, nodding to the door. It's not a lie when I say I'm okay, once I calmed myself down it's easy enough to stay calm. Just momentary sadness.   
"Animal house or Rambo." He answers. Gross. Both of those movies suck, movie-lovers be damned. "I say we should give them their space to work it out amongst themselves. Release their sexual tension." He jokes. I roll my eyes.   
"Sure. THEIR sexual tension, Mr. Fuck-Me-With-Your-Eyes." I shoot sarcastically, but awkwardly. Hitting on people isn't that bad for me when it's simply for fun, but it's also extremely nerve wracking when it's serious. I reach up and take the tie out of my hair so I can re-do it and get it to stop itching. I have to do this a few times a day or else it'll all fall out and be a very annoying mess that itches to shit and back.   
"You're one to talk. I could practically HEAR you thinkin your dirty thoughts." He teases. I smirk and nod.   
"I don't like to lose staring contests, Gregory." I clear my throat to break my own tension. "Should probably get out there, settle the great debate and NOT watch either of those trainwreck movies." I hate both movies, both of them are terrible and I genuinely hate them. Respect them for their value, I mean most of a planet doesn't just worship movies for no reason. I just hate them myself. Greg laughs at me with this comment.   
"Don't tell me you hate them, they're beloved." He complains. I raise an eyebrow at him before tilting my head.   
"Beloved by a lot of people because.......?" With this I start to get off the bed. "Because the glorification of war? From what I saw of Animal house it glorifies......being a douche to people." I shrug. "And potty humor, don't forget the mindless potty humor." He raises his eyebrows at me in surprise. "I respect what they did for the film world, but that's as far as my admiration is for them. I'm not overly tired at the moment, and if we're stuck watching movies the rest of the night I'm not watching those. Take my side, here, Gregory, you might see something new." I tease before arrogantly walking backwards towards the door. He thinks on it for a few seconds before getting and doing what I think is following me, but instead of that he gets very close to me and shrugs.   
"I mean we don't HAVE to rejoin them. I doubt they notice us missing bein as they can't stop bein at each other's throats." He offers. Not having sex with you with them in the next room. Bitch why? I mean.......I don't know. Actually. They could hear? Or know? It'd make things awkward. Eyefucking all day was bad enough, actually fucking would be so much worse.   
"Ah but if we stay here we're confined here the rest of the night and there's not exactly a shit ton to do in here." I ask as innocently as possible. Something I can't help doing at the moment, since I'm not the person that enjoys taking charge, is leading the other person in the room to making the conversation go in that direction. He looks me up and down innocently and smiles.   
"I can think of a few things." He says while sounding quite innocent.   
The way he looks genuinely is the most adorable thing I've ever seen him do since I've known him. He's being suggestive, obviously, but he's still managing to look hopeful, as if he thinks either I'm not catching on or I'll turn him down. As if I'd do either of those things. I narrow my eyes at him and tilt my head again, trying to decide how I'd like to play this. I have half a mind to play innocent and make him tell me what he wants to do. But I also just kind want to fuck him right now. But that's wishful thinking to say the least, and not realistic. Not really. I manage to hold eye contact for a few seconds before breaking and giggling like an idiot at him. Yeah you're adorable. How in the fuck do you manage to be adorable and hot? At different times, obviously, but that's still not something I'm used to. I'm the only one I know that's been able to be hot and adorable not just at the same time but also separately. I'M the adorable one, here, Sir. Fuck off. He joins me in giggling after hesitating a few seconds as if challenging the audacity I have to laugh at him.   
"That ever actually get you laid before? I can think of a few things?" I ask him meaning to be a tease, but I can see that his confidence falters a bit with the question, which brings back my anxiety. "It's adorable, Gregory. Indirectness........you don't get that a lot anymore. It's more fun this way. You really think Rob and Jon won't notice the both of us vanishing? Cause.....if they have a half a brain they'd have figured something out by now." I ask him. I clear my throat and nod behind me towards the door again. He seems a bit confused by this question and looks at the door as if it's not something he's thought about as of yet.   
"Did they catch us staring or somethin?" he asks. Gods your cluelessness is genuinely adorable and I love it.   
"Let's...review." He looks back at me and nods. "We were eye-fucking throughout WILTY, the WHOLE thing. Then you walk me home after the bar? Alone....." He closes his eyes and nods again. "Yeah. And Rob stuck us together NOT JUST on the train here, but also HERE. Either he's setting us up or he's genuinely clueless, neither would be surprising with him. Granted it might be a bit conceited but it's not a big leap for them to make." I explain quickly.   
"Knowing Rob it could go either way. Are you against them knowing? Ashamed already?" He asks sarcastically.   
"Oh yeah, just fuckin disgusted." I pause. "But no I don't take issue with it, I figured you might. Just.....might be better not to make it known while we're all stuck here for a weekend?" I ask him very nervously. It sounds like I'm manipulating him into thinking I'm right when I'm truly horrified at the idea of them knowing. But I'm not, not at all. The biggest worry I have with them finding out is that I lose the friends I have, or make things awkward as fuck for them.   
"Certainly not ashamed." He answers while getting a bit closer to me. My first instinct is to shrink away from the closeness, but I'm already backed against the door so there's nowhere for me TO go to shrink away from him. The urge to get away isn't because of anything he's doing wrong, I'm just very used to keeping physical distance from people. "But I agree." He stops getting closer just a few inches from my face when he speaks. It feels like my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest I'm so nervous. "Best not ruin their weekend by makin them third wheels. You get the anticipation you wanted as well." He finishes, opening the door behind me instead of doing what a pitch perfect cliché romance novel would have him do. He slips around me much more gracefully than would seem possible for a guy his size, which leaves me nearly frozen in place wishing for him to have kept the door shut. Fuck you, man. If that's how you wanna play it I'll make sure you don't win. I've always wanted to do this with someone I'm so fuckin excited I finally get to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro the days got away from me again, I am setting a remind I am so sorry please don't hate me.


	12. The Drunks, and the Zooted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some saucy Monopoly

"So. Charlie." Jon says clumsily. He's drunk again and looks like he's both enjoying it and massively regretting it at the same time.   
The four of us are sitting around the table playing another game, this time it's one that I'm good at so far. It's not the worst game in the world but it's definitely the one of the longest games. Monopoly. We started out just playing it, but after awhile we changed the rules a bit for implement fun challenges. If you land on a property owned by another player you take a shot, If if you go to jail you take two shots, if you go bankrupt you have to down a can of beer on the spot. If you want to save yourself from ending the game you drink an entire can AND take a shot. Every property you lose you take a shot. So far we've gotten about halfway through the game and Jon is the only one that's actually pretty drunk. Rob is mildly tipsy, Greg and I are sober- though I'm not sure how since we're barely paying attention to the game. I made the rules for this one when they couldn't figure out the logistics of making it a drinking game, that's been the extent of my contribution for the most part. A bit ago the game got less serious and more amusing as we started to see Jon losing to all of us pretty quickly. After that we got quieter and started to use mind games.   
Greg is sitting across the table from me, which was almost guaranteed to be deliberate on his part. We keep looking at each other, very similar to what we've been doing the last two days here. We keep making things worse for ourselves by not allowing ourselves to back down from the challenge. It started with the eye-fucking the day before last and grew into things that are harder to hide as time has gone by. He'd look at me and say something overtly sexual in nature but yet still sounds completely innocent if you're not clued in on it. Today we started to see what we could get away with - or at least that's what it seems Greg did. He'd run a foot up my leg if we were sitting at the table next to each other, and every chance he got to put his hand on my thigh, he took it without hesitation. In return I gave him a fuck ton of facial expressions that were suggestive to say the least. I managed to get the confidence today to play him by running my foot up his leg from across the table. When we're alone in our room together he'd continue to tease me but never moved passed that. It's driving me up the walls with how much I just want to fuck him.   
"Jonathan." I retort while Greg traps my leg between the two of his. Fuck. CHEATING. He gives me a look that conveys the message of, 'what are you going to do about it?', and for the briefest of moments I want to dive across the table and punch him in the throat. I get confused when he doesn't answer my response. "Earth to Jonathan?" I ask him. Greg and Rob both let out laughs when they see that Jon looks confused at hearing us talking to him.   
"Right. Charlie." He's stalling. He can't remember a damn thing can he? Fucker. He clumsily points at me. Plastered. Absolutely fucking plastered.   
"Right, this is a fun discussion and all but you should really- " I'm cut off when Greg's hand is felt grabbing my ankle and moving up from there. The fuck are you doing? What the FUCK are you doing Crazy Man? "Should get back to the game, don't you think? The faster you lose, the faster we finish the game, but more importantly you can stop drinking." I have to get through this last part quickly because Greg's hand is tickling the shit out of me. I casually put my head on my hand so I can act tired or bored when I'm really trying to hide the fact that there's a giant man trying to feel me up under a table with two other men. What could possibly go wrong in that scenario?   
"The girl's right. You've cleared had enough, really man you should go out with some fuckin dignity." Rob teases. The taunt gets us all laughing, though not quite that hard.  
"He shit his dignity out the fuckin window when he agreed to come here." Greg shoots back. Yeah I suppose that's kind of true. Fuck how are you doing this without anyone noticing? I feel like I'm going to explode if you don't stop. Thank fuck you can't reach anymore of me underneath the fuckin table, I might have had to throw hands by now. Fuck it feels good, though.   
"Excuse me." Jon begins.   
"Bold of you to assume he ever had dignity to begin with, Gregory." I tilt my head while staring straight at him and picture how much I Want him to keep moving his hand up my leg. Right now it tickles to the point that my fingers are twitching . He narrows his eyes at me with a look of contemplative irritation. The real action in the moment is under the table, however, and progressively getting harder and harder to play off as nothing.   
"Don't I get a say in this argument about me?" Jon complains.   
"No." The three of us all say in sync before laughing like morons at the three-way jinx. Jon scoffs in disbelief.   
"Right then I'll just take my turn like a good little boy." He hisses with no true malice behind it.   
"Ah you've finally accepted your role." I shoot back sarcastically. This gives us the opportunity to laugh, and I can finally giggle at how much Greg is tickling my leg right now. Unfortunately once I've started I almost can't stop, which makes it look like I'm losing my mind a little bit at this joke. I look at Greg and cover my mouth while mentally begging him to stop what he's doing. He is very amused with himself causing this much of a reaction from me. But he stops the movement enough for me to calm back down. I look at the other two men at our table and finally manage to calm back down. They both look confused by what they perceive as an overreaction to an otherwise stupid joke. "I don't know, don't ask. Rob it's your turn." I say quietly now, wiping at my eyes at they had begun to tear up from the giggling fit. Gods that was stupid of me I should not have started laughing to begin with. Stupid Greg. Rob takes his turn and I wait a good minute into it to look at Greg again, who's returned to looking completely inconspicuous while tickling my leg again. I keep trying to discretely pull my legs back, but every time I do he grabs my pants leg and I'm completely trapped again.   
"Dear god how long is this game going to last?" Jon complains when Rob lands on one of his properties, the last he owns, and pays him just enough for him to go another turn. Yeah I am beginning to agree with that statement, I am going to lose my mind before this game is up.   
"At this point I'm at the conclusion that this game is determined to have you drink yourself to death." I answer for him. I genuinely wouldn't be surprised if the universe decided to be a dick to Jon today because that's genuinely the type of bullshit luck he has in his laugh.   
"I wouldn't be surprised." He whines, making us all laugh again. "God hates me, I've come to terms with that. And there it is you fuckin bitch." He mutters upon my turn I land on the very last property that isn't owned yet.   
They have hated me for awhile now. It's a game that I'm typically NOT good at at ALL, and I've never won once in my life. But today, since the very start of it , I've almost got the entire board owned. Rob has three properties each of different colours so he could sabotage the rest of us from being able to upgrade or whatever, which is a good strategy to be honest. Jon calling me a bitch only catches me off guard for a few moments since I've never heard him talk to anyone like that before, and for a good few seconds I almost punch him in the throat. Thankfully for him, though, Greg taps my leg to get my attention and shakes his head as if reading my mind on what I intend to do. I raise my eyebrows at him and he shakes his head again. I'm taking your word for it but he better not be serious. Does he sound serious? He's fucking drunk. Hate drunk people. I take a deep breath and glare at Jon, less angrily and shrug while deciding not to say anything. I know if I open my mouth right now I'll say something bitchy.   
"Someone's a sore loser. If you like, you can sell me your property for free and go to bed." Rob offers clearly sarcastically.   
"I'd love to go to bed, so there." Jon shoots back sounding very pleased with himself at the response. It brings the mood bac to pleasant, thankfully. Yeah that doesn't like th worst idea on the planet at all. Go to bed, get to tomorrow faster so we get home. I really just want to be home already. Quiet home. I don't hate the trip, but the entire weekend spending time with other people without any true privacy is wearing on me. I'm a very private person physically and haven't shared a bedroom in six years since college, and even then I barely shared the room. I can't stand sharing space with people for longer than a few hours, though, granted, spending it with Greg has proven to be fun.   
"How much do you want for that railroad- "   
"Pay up, bitch, I'm not selling shit." I interrupt Greg before he can finish the question he's asked at least five times by now. He is a person, I've come to the realization, that enjoys repeating things to make them funny. Not to the point that they're annoying, but he has asked me for this property every turn he's taken for the last five turns and I've come to expect it. He gives sighs and gives me my money while also taking a shot of tequila. He has gotten maybe a bit tipsy at most since we've started, and I'm almost excited to see him get drunk again.   
I wonder if he's touchy when he's drunk. We've been teasing each other for days, his inhibitions could be lower. Drunk sex? You wouldn't be able to handle that and you know it. Yeah but I can think about it without it being stupid. The thought is better than the reality. If you he gets like that he'll most likely hurt you, or disappoint you. The latter is more likely but he's huge so he's not UNlikely to hurt you, too. Unintentionally. No that's not what I wanna think about. He'd be adorable and clumsy. If he got physical it would be funny BECAUSE he'd be clumsy. Like......tripping over himself, slurring his words trying to convince me to let him do it. And if at any point you wanted to stop he wouldn't. He's twice your size, he's a foot and a HALF taller than you, he's a unit, and he's very clearly attracted to you. You're alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods with two other grown men. Do you really think you'd be safe here with them drunk? Rob wants to fuck you, Greg wants to fuck you, Jon is dead to rights when he's passed out drunk from what you've heard. This isn't a good thing to hope for.   
"Charlotte." I blink a few times and look at Rob curiously when he says my name. He looks very slightly concerned, which makes me worried that the entire thought process I've had was said out loud even when I know it wasn't.   
"My turn?" I ask them, looking between both of them confused. Did I do something wrong? Jon is falling asleep in his hand and doesn't seem to have a grasp on why the other two men at the table are concerned for me.   
"You've gone completely pale, love." Rob says. Something that I find hilarious about this group of comedians from Britain that are very English and embody those traits beautifully, is the fact that most of them genuinely do refer to people as love. Often. I frown at him and look down at myself, though there's no way for me to truly see what they're saying. "Are you feeling alright?" He asks. I look at Greg and see that he looks just as worried as Rob. I feel fine. That's my bad. I made you think about being stuck here with them, it got to you. Shit. Yeah that got to me, but not like this? Weird.   
"I'm sorry, I'm fine. Promise. Is it my turn again?" I ask him. Almost directly after I ask this question I begin to feel Greg moving his hand over my leg again, though this time it feels like he's trying to be comforting rather than teasing. At the same time he does this a rather large wave of nausea hits me hard enough that I have to close my eyes and hold my breath for a few seconds so as to avoid vomiting everywhere.   
"Yeah, your go. Are you sure you're alright?" Greg asks me. I open my eyes once I no longer feel sick and nod my head.   
"Yeah. Stop worrying, I'm fine, guys." I joke while taking my turn. I land on Jon's last property that he didn't sell when Rob had landed on it a bit ago. "Jon, sell me your property so you can ditch the game, you're falling asleep in your hand." I order him to hopefully move on from my body being moronic. I just want to get back to the evening fun without people being worried about me.   
Fun fact: Despite being the BodyGuard friend, every single person in my life treats me like a kid. Granted, I act like a kid sometimes, most of the time, but I can function just fine on my own. I can cook a little bit, I can pay my bills, I can make my own money, and I know when I'm treating myself like shit. The separating line between the BodyGuard friend and being treated like a kid is that I'm good as defending and fighting, but am always the youngest of my group. You don't have to be mature to know how to fight. The best example of how annoying this treatment can get is my college room-mate. We were great friends almost as soon as I switched from the first people I was being housed with. We got through two terms living together and decided to live together after school because we already knew we got along pretty well. Once we moved into an apartment she went from being just a friend that I could hang out with often, to being the person that took it upon herself to parent me. It was a very odd and dramatic change brought on by absolutely nothing. She'd cook a meal, fix me a plate, and when I said I didn't want any of it, or that I it's not food that I want to eat, she'd get mad and guilt me about having cooked for me and I was neglecting her, and starving myself. Thing is, she was never asked for this. There are other examples from other people, but that was the most prominent example, and easily the most infuriating.   
"If you buy it from me doesn't that keep me here longer?" He asks me sounding annoyed.   
"No source of income for you. All of the properties are owned and most are upgraded, if you land on so much as one you're going broke and losing the game." I explain simply. I don't try to avoid being parented by my friends out of pride or spite, I do it so they don't see me as a burden.   
"Right, how much are you giving me for it, then?" Jon asks. Greg scoffs and Rob looks unhappy at the turn of events. I'm a winner and winners win, bitches.   
"Hundred." I answer without really knowing about the value of the property, or giving a shit what it would be. I charge 400 for the railroads unless I have the last one in which I refuse to sell it altogether just to be a prick most of the time. Anything else, if I have a full colour set and need to sell them I sell them at 200 each depending on how much leverage I have in the given situation. "Thank you very much." I give the dice to Jon and he rolls just the perfect amount to land on my railroad. I have all four railroads, making the price he has to pay me 400. He has 10 left over after this. I wait until it's Greg's turn again to decide to tease him again for the fuck of it. He's moved my leg so my heel is just barely resting on the very edge of the chair between his legs. He sits close enough to the table that his lap isn't visible so I'm not worried about anyone seeing anything. When he gets the dice and begins to roll them, I run my foot up his lower thigh by his knee. It makes him jump, very very surreptitiously so it's almost impossible to detect, but I manage to see it and have to fight back a grin. This is not something I ever fucking do, I can't believe the utter audacity I have going right now. Greg continues on while acting like this didn't just happen, counting the money he owes me for landing on my Boardwalk property.   
"I've a feelin this game is going to end quite soon." He complains after forking over $1700. Rob laughs while pouring Greg his obligatory shot. I hope so, I think. What the fuck time is it? I look at the clock on the stove that reads 9:00 PM. Late. I mean....late considering we have to be awake earlier tomorrow than the day we got here. Rob could only get us a seven AM train back home, which has made me debate whether or not it would be easier to stay up all night instead of trying to sleep.   
"I fuckin hope so. I want to get to sleep before eleven." Rob mutters. Good idea for you guys. Still don't know if I should sleep at all. If I take my sedatives now they might kick in in an hour? But every time I take them before ten they wait the entire night to do their job. But I woke up early as hell today and that would be a nightmare to try to achieve.   
"Yeah tomorrow is going to be pretty fucked." I mutter after collecting my complimentary $200.   
"You're bunked in with me tomorrow, just so you know before we arrive." Rob says quickly once tomorrow is actually brought up. My chest sinks. No. I was hoping me and Greg would get stuck together again, that could have been so much fun. In theory. On the other hand, you've been working him up for days now and he will want to collect on that as soon as the opportunity arises. Don't write a check with you mouth you can't cash with your ass. Fuck that's true. That was easily a six hour ride, that would be a shit ton of time to spend alone with him. Me and Greg look at each other, him looking a bit disappointed, before I look back down at the board and take my next turn.   
"I mean, I'm sleeping the whole way back. And dibs on top bunk." I'll take sedatives tonight, then. That way there's no losing if they wait for tomorrow to kick in. Either sleep tonight or on the train and either are good choices.   
"A bit afraid of heights, it's all yours." He responds. I frown and laugh at him while Greg takes his turn.   
"You're in the perfect body, then." I almost immediately regret saying it once it's out of my mouth. I've gotten used to flirting with Greg over the last few days and my tone when speaking just now matched that of being extremely suggestive. I cringe really hard feeling both of the men look at me in complete silence. I can't believe I thought that was a good sentence to say. It was a terrible sentence to say and I regret existing now. "Yeah that could have been said better." I mutter. My turn goes by without incident, and Rob lands on a property owned by Greg. It's the only full colour set he has, the Oranges. Not bad to own at all. Unfortunately he's been smart enough to buy a good few properties, and has collected all but one of Jon's, bringing his numbers up to twelve of the twenty eight on the board. While he can't upgrade them due to not having a full set, they're spread out quite well on the board. Greg thus far has only landed on a property that's been owned a total of four times the entire game, and every other property he bought to ensure no one else could own them.   
"I'll be right back." I say just after I finish my next turn, getting up from the table to quickly head to the bedroom for my sedatives.   
I don't sleep very well at all. It takes me a lifetime to fall asleep, and haven't gotten through an entire night without waking up at least three times. It doesn't matter how tired I actually am, as soon as I try to sleep my body decides not to allow it. The sedatives, when they work, not only help me go and stay asleep, but they get me super high if I take too much. I grab them out of my backpack and count out my standard five pills. No this isn't the recommended dosage by any stretch, but my tolerance is far too high to go with the recommended human amounts. I fill my mouth with water from the bathroom sink and quickly swallow them before rejoining the game. It's no surprise they've already gone and it's my turn again. I sit down, this time with my legs crossed on my chair, and take my turn. Oh hell yeah, Greg's almost out of the game. There's a pile of money at my spot on the table, and Greg is the only one that looks to have lost any. Okay. My turn goes by and I land on one of Rob's properties, managing to owe him a measly $8. We're all silent for the next few rounds, and Greg is getting progressively angrier every time he lands on a property. He's gone from having two and a half thousand, to having a single five hundred in the span of twenty minutes.   
"Fuck it." Greg complains once he's sold his properties to me and gone completely broke. Baller. Me and Rob one on one, I love it. Make it more intense. Following my own advice I move so I'm sitting direct across from Rob, amusing him quite a bit.   
"You're losing this game." I warn him. With Greg and Jon gone, and the rest of their properties being sold to us, me and Rob have several coloured sets of properties. It being Rob's turn, he uses it to put houses on the four sets he's got. This amounts to several hundred dollars that he happily gives up. Now it's interesting.   
"Am I now?" He asks.   
My turn comes around and I'm extremely lucky to end up landing on the Go To Jail spot. Good. I take my two shots when Greg pours them for me and shoot them quickly. Rob scoffs when I land on the space, shaking his head in disbelief. His turn isn't as lucky, as he lands on my boardwalk again. Yup. That's got you down to a thousand now, I'm absolutely winning this game. And I'm right. Within the next ten minutes of us playing he sells me several of his properties, with which I upgrade instantly, and he subsequently lands on every single role until he goes broke. I get lucky and never roll doubles or buy myself out of jail. It's not entirely known to us if I'm allowed to do this or if I'm supposed to get out after a certain amount of time, but I'm not committed enough to fact check this. Once the game is finally over, about forty minutes after Jon had left, we all breathe a sigh of relief. Fucking finally. My sedatives kicked in abnormally fast about ten minutes ago, and they have me properly zooted. When the game is over I'm genuinely happy to not have to put so much focus on playing the game.   
"Well that's game. Good game." Rob says with a smile, extending his hand out in preparation for a handshake. What? No one is EVER this nice playing this game, what in the fuck? I cautiously reach forward and shake his hand, fully expecting him to do something shitty, but all he does is shake it. I laugh at the strangeness of it.   
"That's the most civilized game of monopoly I think I've ever played in my fucking life." I say with a laugh. We quickly pack the game up once it's done, me going at a snails pace with extremely shaky hands. The sedatives, once kicked in, make me have to be hyper aware of what my body is doing otherwise I may very well do something excessively weird. "Seven, right?" I ask Rob as the game is put on a shelf in the living space just below the television. He nods.   
"Sharp." He answers. Fuck. That's going to be actual hell.   
Me and Greg head to the bedroom, me just going straight to my bed while he closes the door. However, before I can actually reach my bed, Greg grabs my arm, gently, and pulls me back towards him. Why. Why did you do this to me this is cruel I just want to lay down and pretend to sleep. Once I'm closer to him, he turns us so his back is to the room and mine is against the wall, and proceeds to start kissing me. It wakes me up very quickly. He isn't overly gentle this time, aggressively kissing me while pulling me very tight against his body while he does so. His arms are around my back, making me feel very tiny in comparison to him. My arms are, at first, frozen at my sides from the shock of the moment, but once my brain catches up to what's happening they allow me to move them so they're around his neck. Despite the adrenaline running through me, the excitement wears off and my sedatives take their full affect again and pull my focus away from the moment I've been waiting the last two days for. Focus. Stay here. Stay in the moment, this is amazing, don't leave this moment you stupid bitch. I say to myself.   
"That was......unexpected." I whisper when he pulls back for a few moments. We're both gasping for air and he lets out a rather loud laugh when I speak sounding like I've well and truly been shaken.   
His breathe tastes like tequila, surprisingly a much better taste when not being ingested. You've definitely succeeded in that mission. After awhile he moves us from the wall towards his bed, backing me into it clumsily enough that when my legs hit it he keeps trying to walk towards me and accidentally pushes me onto it. I giggle at the clumsiness of him while he plays it off like he was trying to do this, then he gets on the bed with me, over me, and resumes the kissing. Fuck you're going to drive me up the wall, Gregory. He gets us situated so he can fit on the bed comfortably before positioning himself above me and between my legs. Even just this contact feels amazing with him putting a lot of weight on me while quite enthusiastically making out with me. He isn't being too quiet, either, which is the main source of my anxiety. I know in reality he probably isn't being all that loud, but being forced to be hyper aware of the world around me he seems loud as fuck. though, in the next moment I'm louder than him by just a bit when he grinds himself against me. It feels so good I let out all my air at once in a sort of reverse gasp. It pulls my attention completely back to his body and makes me hold onto him tighter.   
He and I have a battle of tongues for awhile, him winning in every way but me refusing to back down. He continues to grind against me, getting progressively quicker as time goes on. It isn't quite as active as actual fucking, just him bucking his hips slightly to get some friction going, but it's working me up quite a lot. I try my best not to give this away to him, though. When one of his hands snakes down side I worry that he's about to start undressed me, which is something I'd have to shut down, but instead of this he moves it underneath my shirt and up to my bra to start groping my breasts. This is one thing I never really enjoyed. My breasts are almost completely devoid of feeling aside from pain. I literally can't feel anything until it hurts. He winces when I accidentally scratch him through his shirt while simply just trying to get ahold of it so I could have something in general to hold onto. It scares me that I may have hurt him, but that's quickly put aside when he bites my lip in retaliation. I'm not sure how long we're making out, but I do know that after awhile, the grinding has gotten me so close to the edge that I'm barely breathing at all anymore.   
Fuck. I've never even come close to this without a real sex act. Am I that worked up? the closer I get, the less I'm able to breathe. It's not for any real reason in particular that I can't breathe properly, but it's serving the purpose of helping me achieve climax. With the growing intensity I'm also holding onto him much much tighter, and even this gets progressively stronger as time goes by. It's hard to keep myself grounded while this is happening. My mind tries very hard to distract me, but every time it's about to succeed he grinds against me and I'm brought back to the moment. I love it when guys growl like this it's so fuckin hot. I think myself hearing him letting out very small growls every few seconds. Annoyingly enough, he slows down quite a bit and even gets more gentle with the kissing. He slows down, then starts to kiss me down to my neck, and stops just below my left ear. This is a place that drives me crazy no matter when or how it's done. I genuinely shiver when he gets there and make him laugh at the same time.   
"Going to have to remember that for next time." He says quietly to himself before pulling back and sitting up. Gods. That was a lot. That was a LOT. I reach up and cover my face with both of my hands to try to regain my composure as quickly as possible. I have to breathe. He starts to quietly laugh at me when I cover my face, most likely because he thinks I'm trying to hide from him - which I'm not. Not at all. If anything, him laughing at me is more embarrassing then me covering my face. "You alright, darling?" He asks. I nod and finally allow myself to scoot back away from him and into a sitting position. Fuck.   
"You?" I very quietly ask in return. He laughs and nods, looking me over again with the same amount of desire that I feel. That was a lot. Good, but definitely a lot for such a dramatic change.   
"I thought I'd left the foreplay bullshit behind me years ago but jesus christ you're too fun not to work up." He jokes arrogantly. My face goes very warm, and I imagine very red, as he says this. Gods that's so embarrassing. That's SO embarrassing.   
"I mean I could say the same about you nearly jumping out of your skin earlier. Good strategy to use in a game, I'll have to remember that." I respond sarcastically. Distracting him during the game genuinely was fun. He laughs at this.   
"You do that and I'll have to punish ya. Specially if it's what you were doin earlier." He responds deviously. Right. Punish me? I think that's hot but also stupid.   
"Oh punish me huh? Love to see how you think you're gonna do that. But uh...." I run my hand over my face to bring my focus back to the moment. My sedatives have kicked back in as the adrenaline has worn off and I'm back to being high as fuck.   
"You alright?" He asks returning to being worried about me. I giggle and nod.   
"Yeah my sedatives kicked in hard core just now. I am......fucking zooted. And need to shut up before I ramble myself into humiliation." I answer while crawling off the bed and going back to my bed. Most of me wants to stay in his bed but muscle memory is dictating my actions at the moment.   
"Ramble yourself into humiliation. How poetically put. You're high right now?" He asks me with a laugh. I get into my bed and wrap the blanket around my shoulders before nodding at him, being sure to cover my mouth so I can't speak. When I'm high like this I can genuinely ramble on for hours. I think the longest I've gone, uninterrupted, is four, and six with very few interruptions. I rant, ramble, sing, and stare. It's ridiculous and very embarrassing. One of the main reasons I'm perfectly okay with being allergic to Pot. "You don't seem high. You need sedatives?" He asks the questions pretty rapidly just as I'm laying down to try to sleep.   
"I don't sleep easily. Without them I'm up for forever. An......defect is bring zooted to high hell." I answer. "Lemmie sleep or I'm gonna keep you up all night rambling." I complain before looking at him about as angrily as I can manage, which, in this state, isn't very angrily. If anything he looks at me like I'm adorable more than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in T minus two chapters


	13. The Ride Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra long cause I'm trash and keep forgetting to update

"Tell me, before you pass back out because I know you're exhausted, but I want to know if you enjoyed yourself this weekend." Rob asks me when we get to our room on the train. He practically had to drag me out of bed this morning because I didn't want to wake up. I already shoved my duffel bag under the be but am using my backpack as a pillow.   
"Yeah it was fun. I mean.....not what I'm used to by any means but it was fun. Kept expecting to have to kick you or Gregory's ass, but that's just me." I admit. With Rob I be as honest as I can most of the time just to make sure there's no manipulation possible on my end of the friendship. He was put off by it for awhile because my honesty can be rude as fuck sometimes, but he got past it and thought it was endearing. Now he's just used to it. The honesty this time makes him laugh.   
"Yes I realized that before we invited you along. I'd doubted you'd trust being stuck in a cabin with three grown men. Is that what happened yesterday? You did go quite pale." He asks. I sit up and shrug at him. He's standing leaning against the wall opposite our beds.   
"I honestly don't know. I was thinking about some things but nothing that would trigger that kind of fear response? But it was a fun weekend. Do you guys do that often?" I ask him. The question makes me immediately think of the cliche` 'you come here often' phrase that's constantly made fun of or spoofed.   
"Not really, no, maybe twice a year? Usually when we're getting burnt out and need to unplug for a few days. I'm sorry I stuck you with Gregory for the duration, I hope that wasn't too much of a hassle." I shake my head while fighting against the smile that wants to take over my face. If you only knew how much it wasn't, Rob. Fuck that was hilarious.   
"I don't expect special treatment from any of you, it was fine. Gregory snores like a motherfucker, though, so that's a thing I never thought I'd learn about him firsthand." Rob laughs again and seems to relax quite a bit at my answer to his question.   
He doesn't know how bad it can get for, and I would like to keep it that way as long as possible. All he really knows is that I have a Panic Disorder that gets triggered when I'm touched, in a crowd, or have someone behind me for longer than a few seconds. He doesn't know why, and he doesn't know about other triggers because that information is irrelevant. It's something that I heavily debated making public when my series began to get widespread attention. My main character, along with all of my main characters, has a Panic Disorder as well, though hers is a fuck ton worse than mine. I am a very big advocate for people that have mental health issues, but I couldn't bring myself to talk about it on such a huge platform. Instead of that, I let my main character do the advocating for me, and I used her past to help people understand it a little more. I didn't hold it back because I'm ashamed, I'm not, I just didn't want to take away from someone else by being in the spotlight. It felt exploitative. There's only one selfish reason for me keeping it to myself which is the fact that I don't want people to use it against me. It's happened before, several times, and it's not worth just being another voice shouting into the ether. All this said, I tell the people that the information is relevant to.   
"Did you have fun? I kind of tuned out a lot, never paid all that much attention to anyone." I ask him. He nods.   
"Absolutely. As much as I hate camping those trips are always worth it in the end. You should come back on WILTY, we have more material now for you." He offers. Gods, that was terrifying. I still don't see why you want me in the comedian crowd so badly, I'm not a comedian. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but it's weird being the only non-comedian of the group.   
"That'd be fun. Put me with Mitchell this time, I can't stand Lee." He nods again.   
"I'm surprised you dislike him over Mitchell. Nearly everybody is the opposite." He comments. Yeah, I know. Lee just makes me feel dirty whenever he's around me, I don't know why. If his personality was in almost any other body I would love him, but he makes me feel gross. No one understands why, and by no one I mean Rob and my mother. Even I don't know why he brings out this reaction in me but he does and it's bad enough that sitting through the show with him next to me had me wanting to throat punch him the entire time. Mitchell is annoying, yes, and quite pretentious, but doesn't make me feel weird when he's near me.   
"He just makes me feel gross, I don't know what it is. What stories would you have me tell this time if I come back?" I ask him. Every story I told the first time was true, which made everyone kind of hate me by the end. It made me want to come back and only tell lies.   
"You drank the lot of us under the table. Maybe that you learned to use a butterfly knife by the age of twelve?" He asks. Mentioning my weaponry skills excited me instantly.   
"That would be a great one, dude. Get me a practice knife - or I can bring one of my own and wait until the end to show off. I mean at that point the entire country would probably be worried about me, or afraid of me." Including Greg. If he knew that he might think you a psychopath, you don't want that now, do you? Fuck. I mean......if he really likes me he should be able to accept that I have weird things that I do. You're skilled at fighting with almost literally every single bladed weapon out there, that's not just weird. Not all of them. And they don't need to know about all of them, just that one. I learned it because it's a sick ass knife and the logistics of it are amazing. But you're right. I don't want Greg backing off because of that. "Or you could have me lie the entire episode. I told nothing but the truth last time and they hates me for it. If I go with one truth and the rest lies it could really throw them off." I offer, now laying on my back on the bed. Rob's gotten into his bed as well but he's got his own laptop out and can be heard typing on it.   
"I didn't realize that until now. You're correct, you only told the truth. We can make the butterfly knife story first, then have you lie the rest of the game." He answers. Sick. It'd almost be cool to save the knife for last, but at the beginning they'd get very thrown off if they thought I was lying again, and it could be an ongoing gag throughout the rest of the episode.   
"Do you know who else is going to be on next time?" I ask him. I only knew of Jon and Mitchell in the grouping when I'd been on it. I almost want people I recognize. I think. Might not be the best idea on the planet but it could be fun. Rhod Gilbert would be fucked up hilarious. Or.....Russel Howard. I love that guy, he is my favourite comedian of all time. Complete goofball.   
"I believe we have James Acaster secured, now you, and we're courting Richard Ayoade as well as Kathryn Ryan." He answers. Ayoade? He's stone cold, I love that guy. Big Fat Quiz of the year, he was with Russell Brand once I think, that's where I saw Ayoade the first time. And James? I've seen short clips of him on WILTY before, he's insane. I think people call him Chaotic Neutral for how off his face he seems.   
"Fuck that's a stacked deck. Is James the same off stage as he is on it? I feel like there's no change at all." I ask him. The kid talks fast, has a bad attitude, and always feels like he's acting like a child - though that may very well be because he looks like a child.   
"Yes. A bit toned down but he's the exact same person off stage, it drives us up the wall." He answers. I smile. Yeah I bet it does, you guys being ancient and all. I pull my beanie over my eyes to clock out the light and try to relax. I'm definitely still tired, though I'm not sure if my body will allow me to sleep. 

I flinch hard, waking up instantly and pulling my knife out from underneath my pillow to hold up just in front of me in defense of the person that's invaded our train car. It wakes me out of the dead sleep I'd been in and scared the shit out of me. My body noticed the air pressure change before my mind could register it, but didn't alert me to wake up until their presence is just next to the bunk beds. They aren't being silent, but they're not exactly being loud enough to warrant waking anyone up unless that someone being woken up is someone like me that has a hard enough time falling asleep with someone in the same room as me. It takes me a few moments, just under two seconds, to feel the air pressure change followed by their presence next to my bed, to grab the knife and sit up in preparation for an attack. Another second after this when my brain catches up to the moment, I see Jon is the person standing next to the bed - or he was before I freaked out. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit I freaked out. When he registers the situation he shoves himself backwards as far away from me as he can get.   
"Jesus fuck Jon what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed?" I all but yell at him. I put the knife back under the pillow and try desperately to catch my breath. I HATE people that do that.   
"Are you alright? What happened?" Rob asks as he gets off the bed to stand and look at me. Jon has a hand over his chest and his eyes closed trying to get himself back under control. Gods I can't believe that just happened. I can NOT believe that happened.   
"She just......pulled a knife on me. I was just comin to let you know we're almost there." Jon says absently. Fuck Jon I'm so sorry it's reflex I'm terrible I'm so sorry. Fuck fuck fuck.   
"I'm so sorry Jon. Are you okay? I didn't- I-I didn't mean to do that you just walked in here and scared the shit out of me I thought you were gonna rob us or something." I explain very very quickly. Rob realizes now what happened and steps towards Jon, which for a moment scares me into thinking he's afraid of me now, too.   
"You should know not to sneak up on the sleeping. Sometimes they have batshit reactions, Jon." Rob says as if he's pretending to be serious but is joking. Thank fuck. Gods I really thought I lost you for a second. I need to get that under control before I hurt someone. You won't. This IS under control. That reaction was amazing, you didn't hesitate you just acted. And could have killed Jon. You couldn't have killed him. You wake up poised to defend, not attack. People shouldn't creep up on people when they're asleep. Or at all, for that matter.   
"The worst anyone's ever done is have a scream and move on. She pulled a knife on me! That's not normal?" Jon is upset, but not as upset as it seems. He looks afraid of me every time he looks at me, but the corners of his mouth are pulled up and his last question sounds like he's borderline impressed with me.   
"What's not normal?" Greg enters the small room, remaining just in the threshold of the entrance. My stomach drops and I feel my body get colder when I realize they're going to tell him that I'm a freak. This has cost me a relationship before, though it wasn't a romantic one. I had a good friend at my first place of work that decided it would be a good idea to scare me by doing the stereotypical jumping out and yelling 'Boo', only when he did it he grabbed both of my shoulders from behind. It was a sudden attack and my body reacted by spinning around and punching him in the throat. On the upside no one else ever fucked with me while I was there. I hug my backpack to my chest and brace for impact.   
"Jon and Charlie had a small misunderstanding. Jon has learned his lesson, haven't you, Jon?" Rob asks Jon. Please don't think I'm a freak. PLEASE don't think I'm a freak.   
"Yeah I suppose I have. Don't wake people up or they may try to cut your throat." Jon mutters sarcastically. I close my eyes. Damnit damnit damnit it was stupid to come this weekend. I shouldn't have bothered, now everything is ruined. "Come on, then, we're a few minutes from our stop." He leaves the room, carefully moving past Greg to do so. When he's gone and Greg follows him, Rob closes the door behind them.   
"Are you alright? He'll get over it, he just got scared." Rob asks me. No. I ruin everything. All the time. I ruined the weekend, I ruined your friendships, I ruin everything I touch, I'm so fucked. My throat closes and causes me to have to struggle to breathe. It's not a full panic attack yet but one is definitely trying to come on. Not now. Please not now we don't have the time. Get it under control. Freak out when you get home. These people do NOT need to see you freaking out over something so small. "He wouldn't hurt you. Neither would I or Greg, you're okay. Are you okay?" He asks me again. I'm not, though. And it isn't about them hurting me it's about me ruining them. I'M the problem not you or them. Fuck. I hold my hand up so he'll stop asking me questions and let me breathe. I don't know how long it takes for me to calm down enough to really move again, but it feels like forever. My throat is still closed and my eyes burn but I can pass for someone that's just annoyed or pissed off. I slowly get off the bed ad grab my duffel bag from the floor, all while clearing my throat a few times to try to get it top open up enough to talk a little bit.   
"Need a few minutes." I tell him simply. He looks at me very concerned but nods his head. Thank you.   
We exit the room and I follow him to join Greg and Jon by the exit doors. On our way into the open space I only glance at Greg and Jon to see how they're looking at me. Greg, from the microsecond I see him, is concerned, while Jon is staring out the window in the door looking like he normally does. No anger or fear. I put myself in the back corner of the space away from everyone and continue to focus on my breathing so I don't have an attack in front of them. Sometimes I can't fight the attacks if they come on super fast, but other times I can put them off for a little while until there's a better time to have it. It doesn't make a shit ton of sense considering they are usually brought on instantly caused by one trigger, but in situations like this, when it's an internal causation, I can breathe through it for awhile. The longest I've ever managed to put off an attack is forty minutes of absolute hell. Right now all I have to do is make it to the station and find a bathroom to freak out in. It's mid afternoon and despite the sky being full of clouds, it's super bright out. I can have the attack, put on my sunglasses, and do my best to make it look like I'm just pissed off instead of a wreck.   
"Bathroom." I tap on Rob's shoulder to get his attention, then say this as soon as I have it. He nods and points to my right. Good.   
I again don't look at anyone before rushing to the bathroom against the far wall in the room of the station and choosing a stall that's on the end against the far corner away from the exit. There are other people in here but the space is loud that my breathing is hardly noticeable, especially when I shove my face into my balled up coat. Failure. I'm a failure. I came here and I failed and I can't go back home for another year at the LEAST because of travel restrictions. I'm stuck here for a year with people that I don't know because I ruined everything with my friends. They'll probably tell stories about you, too. Guaranteed Jon will use that in a bit whether it's in a stand-up show or just an anecdote. So this chick is sleeping and I go to be the polite person to wake her and my other mate up.....yes hello it's time to go- oh my god there's a knife in my face! You'll be a joke. You'll be a joke that people will think is crazy. Knife girl. Tried killing a guy just because he woke her up on a train. Stupid bitch. I know.   
"Right. Our lift is out front. Everyone ready to go home?" Rob asks us once I've rejoined group. Greg watches me when I walk back to them, a look of what I think is concern on his face. He gives me a questioning look when he sees me looking at him, to which I just shake my head. I put my sunglasses on as soon as I got out of the bathroom so he can't read my face too well. I also don't give him the time to try since I stand on the other side of Rob while we walk out.   
Everything after this is uneventful. Greg sits shotgun while Rob sandwiches himself between me and Jon in the back seat. It's not a small car so there's plenty of room. I still shove myself into the door with my backpack on my lap while staring out the window hoping to avoid people seeing me and vice versa. The car is completely silent including the driver of the car, while we are being driven home. Noticing this just makes me feel worse about the situation. It feels like it's my fault. Thankfully for me, I'm a person that can only cry when I'm having a panic attack. No matter how sad I am, how mad I am, or how much pain I'm in, my body refuses to let me cry. I love this about myself because it makes me being upset a hell of a lot less easy to read. However, to make up for this gift is what happens when I should be crying but can't, my throat closes. I feel like I'm sinking into the depths of hell the longer we're in the car. Everything feels as if it's my fault even if it isn't overly realistic to think.   
"Have a good night, Jon."   
"I'm sorry again."   
"See ya later mate." We all say this when we drop Jon off at his house. He's the first stop and then Rob, me, and finally Greg.   
"Do you want me to come over?" Rob asks me very quietly. I look at him and see that the offer is only so he can be a good friend and try to make me feel less shitty. The ironic thing about this intention is that it makes me feel worse. I purse my lips and shake my head. I just need to be alone for awhile. For.....forever really. I mean that would be the best option at this point.   
"No thanks. You should get home. Maybe....few days? Hang out?" I ask him awkwardly. He nods though he still looks worried about me. It should be something that makes you feel good, knowing your friends are there when you need them, but it just makes me feel like a burden. Another thing that there's a good reason for.   
The Panic Disorder didn't come out of nowhere, not by any means. But it's source is still relatively unknown. I believe that it originated, or at least the seed of it originated, when I was four and my mother broke her back. A disc in her spine, as elegantly put by her doctor at the time, exploded. That's obviously not exactly what happened, but that's the best way to put it. I never understood how she lived and kept the function of her legs after this, but I never asked, either. I was right next to her when it happened, and while I don't personally remember it, she told me that for months after it happened, if she so much as made a noise that could be interpreted as pain I would instantly run to her and ask if she was okay. Months. The Panic Attacks didn't start for me until I was about seven from what she remembers. And the triggers back then were hairpin, and very odd. At first it was lightning, typical kid fear, then volcanoes when we moved to a part of the country literally surrounded by them. After that it was the end of the world and zombies, both of which lasted until I was fourteen. And they happened to me at night primarily. Which meant she'd be up half the night calming me down and helping me sleep again. That made me a burden and stole sleep from her for literal years. The only trigger that I still have that's lasted my entire life is people.   
"Let me know when you're home, I want to be sure you get there alright." Rob orders once we're outside his place. I nod at him and finally close my eyes again. Fuck. Home. I'm...twenty minutes away? I think? Then I can just lay down and call it a night. Write for awhile, decompress. I'm sure I'll feet less self-pity by tomorrow or the day after. momentary lapse of sanity.   
"Charlotte, are you alright?" I flinch when Greg gets out of the car and moves to the backseat to sit with me. In you're wondering, the driver has already gotten all of our addresses and doesn't seem too keen on talking to us.   
"Hmm?" I ask him. Why are you back here? You should have stayed up there, it would have been better for you up there.   
"What happened? Whatever it was it upset you quite a bit. Do I need to go back and kick the shit out of Jon?" He asks jokingly. I can't help smiling, though the idea that he might actually be willing to do that makes me feel guilty. I don't want to talk about it. I just want this to be the fun thing it's been the last few days. I'm all for full disclosure but I just want to stay the fun random person they barely know for awhile.   
"He just woke me up by scaring the shit out of me. If anyone is getting beaten up it's me. But I doubt you're willing to do that." My answer is supposed to be sarcastic and flirty, but after I have an attack, for about an hour or so after, my voice is very monotone and sounds dead inside. I lean my head against the window again and try my best to remain calm.   
"It's more than that, but if you would rather not discuss it I understand completely." He says, very gently touching my left shoulder. I flinch at first, which he takes as me not wanting him to touch me and removes his hand quickly. Fuck. I'm terrible. I'm a terrible person. You know what? I should probably take a walk before actually going home. Feel super cold for a bit. We get to my stop pretty quickly after that, and in silence. Though it isn't heavy silence, it's actually very comfortable apart from my horrifying guilt. "Hey." I look at Greg before getting out of the car, eyeing him curiously before he speaks again. "You sure you're alright?" He asks again. I smile at him and nod.   
"I'm good. And you?" I ask in return, though I feel weird keeping the driver from continuing his journey.   
"Good, yeah. Have a good day, darling." He leans over and kisses me on my cheek as I grab my backpack, making me freeze for half a moment before nodding at him while my stomach turns over a few times. Gods you're still so kind, I don't understand how you're all actually so kind.   
I go to the back of the car and get my duffel bag before finally re-entering my building with a sigh. Thank fuck. I go to the stairs like a moron and use them to get up to the fifth floor where my apartment is located. The only thing I wanted out of life when I got an apartment instead of a house was not to have anyone above me. Every single place I've lived since I moved out of my house at age 18, my upstairs neighbors have always been the heaviest footed party animals with terrible dogs to have ever existed. Ever. It got bad enough that at one time my upstairs neighbors woke me and my room mates up in the middle of the night thinking the entire building was coming down around us, and that is in no way an exaggeration. They knew they fucked up, and all of us had run up the stairs to scream at then- I had gone to beat them to death, and they met us on the stairs to accuse us of.......I don't know and neither did they. They asked if we had tried to come through our ceiling? I will never forget the ridiculousness of that question to this day. When I got money it's really all I wanted out of an apartment. And I didn't want an apartment at all when I got here.   
"Hello?" I ask the PA system when it buzzes at me about ten minutes after I get home. I expect it to be Rob since he seemed relatively worried about me when he got dropped off back home.   
"There you are. Jesus christ you had to live on the top fuckin floor took me ages to find you." Greg's voice greets me. Greg? Why are you BACK?   
"Sorry? Are you okay? Did the car like....crash or something?" I ask him halfway seriously. It's definitely far fetched but it's genuinely the first thing that pops into my head as the most likely thing to have caused him to come back. I hear him laughing when he presses the PA button.   
"No. May I come in?" He asks me. Come in? Why are here you should be well on your way home by now. Did I forget something in the car? I shake my head and press the button that unlocks the front door.   
"I'm 525." I say quickly after unlocking the door for him.   
My nerves are skyrocketing wondering why he's here and it's making me feel physically sick. I've done something wrong. He hates me and.....fuck I don't know. Maybe Jon told him what happened on the train and he's here to beat me up. You're......so stupid. It's embarrassing, truly embarrassing, to be the voice of reason in your tiny little brain. If he hated you he wouldn't talk to, and if he thought you hurt Jon or tried to hurt Jon he'd just be a dick to you about it. None of those reasons are realistic in this situation with Greg. You know that. But it's so weird? I don't get why he'd turn around after fifteen minutes to come here. I have to have forgotten something. What could I have forgotten? Everything was in the backpack. The backpack. No. You had it when you got home, with the duffel there with it. Phone wallet keys. I pat myself down and find that I have all three in my pockets. What the fuck? The next couple of minutes are horrible. Anticipation is good only sometimes, but never in situations that you've no clue to what's going on. My entire body is ice cold from the anxiety and I'm already having trouble breathing. I jump almost out of my skin when there's a knock at the door. Half second of pause. You weren't standing by the door the whole time. I know, I know.   
"There you are. It occurred that I don't have your fuckin phone number." He says with a smile that makes it very clear he's amused with himself. My......my number? My phone number? You came back for my phone number? You could have asked Rob for that if you wanted it you didn't have to come all the way back here for it. Gods now I feel even worse.   
"Uh.....you could've asked Rob? You didn't have to come all the way back here. I'm sorry." I say quietly. The nerves have made my voice quite high pitched, as they do most of the time, which makes me sound even more childlike.   
"Don't be sorry, it's my fault really. Can I get your number?" He asks me with his phone already pulled out. Gods I'm terrible. Why would you even WANT my number? Fuck I'm so confused right now. I pull my own phone out and bring up the messaging app. I don't take down numbers like people used to by putting it straight into my contacts, I always send a text message to be sure it works.   
"What's yours?" I ask him. What should I say to him? First impressions need to be good, I love re-reading texts it's like re-reading a good book sometimes. Something weird. Has to be something weird. Picture? No that's too New Age. Call him a name. I already do that. Coy is for later, funny is for now. Stupid joke? No not that. Has to be good. Can't go wrong with testing one two three. You're not wrong, I love using that one. AND I need a nickname for him. Master. Master? That's WAY too fuckin kinky are you insane? Taskmaster, bro. It can be an inside joke and an innuendo. TRUE. I like that. He feeds me his number and I type it in. "Just a warning, if you give me this number I will send you weird texts all the time." I warn him after I've entered his number into my phone. His eyebrows knit in confused amusement as he nods.   
"Yeah you and everyone else that texts me. You know what's funny? A couple years ago during Taskmaster one of the comedians had the task of sending me a cheeky text one a day for one hundred and fifty days." He says. I half pay attention so I can focus on the right thing to send him, ultimately coming to the conclusion that I am a sham of a person and go with my simple 'testing 1...2...3...' message.   
"How.......wait." I blink a few times after sending the message to look at him in confusion. Hundred fifty days? That's....." I tilt my head to do the math. "That's......three sixty five in two is one eighty five give or take which is six months minus thirty days for a month making that about five months. Why five months?" I ask him. His phone dings when he receives my message and he chuckles.   
"From when they begin their tasks to the day they finish them." He answers as he types in his response to my message. 'Confirmed. Message received.' I smirk at this goofy response.   
"Damn, that could be a fun challenge. Did something like it in college- university." I comment. Okay, create new contact. Need a picture that represents him. I never use real names or pictures of the real person on my phone. It isn't for any profound reason other than amusing myself when they contact me. That and it genuinely makes it easier to remember who they are, and yes I see the irony in that statement.   
"Oh yeah? What happened? You do your own version of the task? Flirting with frat boys?" He asks teasingly. I scoff.   
"Kind of? I mean......" I tilt my head again. "He was a friend but we always hit on each other for the fuck of it. He dissed pugs-- which are the cutest dog breed aside from their poor health - and I spent like.....a good three or four months sending him weird pug pictures every day. So who did the texting? Was it.....to make them feel awkward or what was the point of the task?" I ask him. Taskmaster. Too long. Master is just better with it being one word and all. First name Task, last name Master, this way only the last name shows up and I keep the full name in case of confusion or concern. And a picture.   
"Alex thought that one up, I can't think how or why. The bastards at the studio thought to give the comedian a spare phone for this task and gave him my personal number. TaskMaster. Not Gregory?" He asks me, peaking over my phone to see what I'm doing. I look up at him and nod before returning to the hunt for a good picture. It doesn't take too long to get an idea, google search it, find the proper picture of Godzilla that I'm looking for. Putting the mammoth monster as his picture makes me stifle giggles. "Oh not you, too." He complains upon seeing the picture. I panic for a moment until I realize he's joking and shrug.   
"It's Godzilla or Chunk. Frankly Godzilla is preferable." I mutter. "And TaskMaster for funsies. Gregory is said to establish dominance, I don't need to do that on my phone." I explain quietly. I save the contact and then go to my contacts to ensure it saved properly. There are loads of different names, all of which are funny in one way or another to me. Boss Man Jenkins ™ was an old boss of mine that I hated once I left, but the day I met him I knew that would be his nick name despite it having no reason whatsoever to be.   
"Daddie? You seein someone on the side?" Greg asks sarcastically. Oh gods, Daddie. FUCK. Now I have to explain that.   
"Jealous?" I ask in a tease. When I glance up at him he's looking at me with narrowed eyes. Definitely jealous. Okay then. I nod once. "You're thinking it's kinky." I state it rather than asking, but he still nods. "I don't have a daddy kink, Gregory, you dirty dirty man." I continue to tease. this time he actually cracks a smile allowing me to relax a bit more. Good. The story behind it is a bit long, I don't want to keep you here you should go home. I'm sorry you had to come back." It only just occurred to me that the ride we came here in has been waiting for him outside for forever by now and has to be getting to be pretty done with our shit.   
"You're not keeping me, I've nothin to do until tomorrow. I can leave if you like, you said you wanted to be alone earlier and I've spoiled that." I shake my head fervently.   
"Not at all I just.....you're fine. Sorry." I stand awkwardly with this and lean against the door that I'm also holding open so as to not fall over when leaning on it.   
"Why Daddie, then? Actual father?" He asks. I crinkle my nose at that question. I haven't referred to my father as daddy since I was five. Even back then it felt wrong to say aloud to anyone.   
"No. Gods no I'd rather shoot myself than call him daddy. Gross. It's a long story behind it." I warn him again. He nods.   
"I've nothin to do until tomorrow or until you throw me out." He answers. I shake my head again.   
"Uh..." I huff. "Okay. I had a job at a call center awhile back and got put on a team of people that called themselves the Island of Misfit Toys. They actually put this group in like.......the farthest corner of the room for no real reason. But......" I narrow my eyes. "Anyways, there were two guys on the team that pretending to be gay dads to me and......two....other people? I think." He frowns heavily in confusion at this. Yeah it's hard to explain. It was the most fun back then, though. That was the best team on the floor despite the fact that everyone hated us for no reason. "I don't know why, it's was a thing that started before I got there. But basically we called one of them Daddie with an I E at the end, and the other one was papa. The best part of that is we managed to use it so much that a good.....thirty other people on the floor were calling him Daddie." I finish there with a nod, already feeling like I've spoken far too much.   
"Were they really gay?" He asks. I laugh.   
"I mean I......dated one of them so I doubt it." I answer and then immediately regret it. "I think they were....very straight but comfortable enough with their sexualities they didn't care how they acted." I answer as simply as I can. One of then, Danny, never defined his sexuality and I thought that it may because he didn't want it to become a big thing. Which made everything think him secretly gay. All but me and a few others. I'm pretty sure he's straight as dried pasta but enjoyed having an air of mystery surrounding him.   
"They......treated you like a daughter? But you dated one of them. How does that work without kinks?" He asks me, making me laugh.   
"It was a joke. We were a family unit on the floor because it made it funny when people came over to talk to us. I think it started with the Gay Dads thing because we had a few old women that were...closet homophobes. That situation where they pretend not to care but silently judge you?" He nods. "They took it and ran until it snowballed." I stop there, again, with a nod. I'm talking way too much. Way. Too much.   
"How many were there in this family?" He asks. Gods. Good question.   
"Uh......I think we had.....me, the kickass daughter, Lucas the depressed cousin, Steve the creepy uncle, Chis and Danny at the iconic gay dads, Alexis the adopted daughter, and then the Dynamic Duo Tim and Ethan." I stop there. Tim and Ethan were my favourite people on the floor to be around. They were young, funny, absolutely perfectly matched to my sense of humor and attitude. Tim was a psychopath, freakishly smart and very dark, but he had a very upbeat personality to juxtapose this. I've never met anyone like that before in my life. Ethan was similar, only he didn't have the upbeat personality part down. Officially in the family unit, since I was dating one of the Gay Dads that was quite jealous of them, they were only labeled as The Kids Down The Street That Come Over Everyday Despite Not Being Friends With Anyone or Being Part of The Family. I would have called them cousins or brothers but it was shot down immediately.   
"Your generation are a very strange lot." He comments. I laugh and nod. Yeah we definitely are. "It sounds as if you were all quite close." To this I shrug.   
"At work we were. They were......probably the best group of friends I'd been in, but....." I shake my head and try not to feel bad about losing every one of them. "It was a really shitty job and we burned out very fast." It is one of the worst jobs.   
Customer service-wise, anyways. This isn't to say all customer service jobs are easy or any less hellish, but this is a different kind of hell. I'd take it over face-to face customer service any day because I can't control my face but I can mute on a phone call. This job was hell not just because of the people, and they were terrible people, but every aspect of it was shit. We worked on tech that was extremely outdated, with little to no resources to help us if we needed it, we were judged on metrics that shouldn't matter and berated for not being perfect. Customers weren't a walk in the park, either. I had the job for two and a half years before I quit last year in favour of publishing and never looking back. It was a very long two and a half years, lets just say that. Especially for someone that already has a Panic Disorder. Life expectancy for this job was a few months, maybe a year, before you burned out. And you don't get out without serious issues afterwards, either. Those that last longer than three years have no souls left. Five and they never had souls at all. If I could have burned the place to the ground I would have, and on many occasions I seriously considered it. It was the one and only job that genuinely made me hope for a shooter to come in and end everything. For someone that despises guns and shooters, this is an extreme desire.   
"Why's that?" Greg asks me, bringing me back to reality. I blink a few times before looking at him and registering the question.   
"Uh...." I shrug again. "so it's......the first client I worked under was known as Forbidden Fruit because of.....NDA bullshit. Technical issues. I could....genuinely go on for hours about how bad just that aspect of it was. But the client didn't give a rat's ass about us and tried working us to death. They set us up for failure and got mad when we failed. And the second client was a big....store franchise. This is....." I narrow my eyes to find the right way to explain without rambling for forever. "It was the worse of the two purely because of the people on the floor. I mean I was instantly separated from the main group because I'm weird. And my direct manager made it her goal in life to make the lot of us as miserable as possible. We actually....I'm proud of this one, we called her BloodRayna." It's a reference to one of my favourite shows, and while she's nothing like the character being referenced, it fit far too well to pass up. And people would drop like flies at her hand, too.   
"I'm sorry that sounds awful. What did people call about on that one?" He asks while seeming genuinely interested in the subject. It's one that I could and have talk about for hours on end.   
"On that campaign people called in for.....missing or damaged products? Or to complain about a wait time. Sounds really simple right? Not that hard? Refund the missing thing, apologize for the five minutes they waited." he nods. "No. Granted, and this sounds bullshit but that's why it was amusing, I got the crazy people? All the time." He smirks but is obviously confused.   
"Were you good at handling them?" He asks.   
"Oh no, there weren't any specific queues. I would just get all the crazy people. When.....when I moved from the tech job to the next campaign I asked several agents if the customers were screamy and angry a lot and bar none they all said it was rare. But...." I tilt my head. "I am a magnet, I guess. They say it in training that while there's no queue separation that you'll mostly get one type of issue while someone else gets another. Like some weird.....cosmic thing that doesn't make sense. The tech campaign I had all the batshit stuff, shit no one had seen before, and on the next campaign I got every psychopath out there. It was a huge joke with our group, though. The....." I sigh. "One of the Gay Dads, for a long time, didn't think I actually had as many shit people as I did because he rarely ever got them. Like....I'm over reacting to the frustration the customer is feeling and taking it personally." I pause for air here before continuing.   
"That's a very odd position to take on the matter. Did he ever believe you?" He asks. "OR was it true?" I roll my eyes.   
"It was true. And I moved so that I sat next to him for a week so I could prove it to him. The people I got were so loud most of the time that I had to take my headset off, and then HE could hear them. And the rest of my group heard them. And then I became the butt of all the crazy people jokes on the floor. I think I'd honestly eat a bullet before doing customer service again, it's hell. Gods I'm sorry that was a lot you should have told me to shut up." I close my eyes in embarrassment when I realize again that I've rambled on far too long about the issue. Greg laughs again.   
"You've nothing to apologize for, love. I asked." He defends. Right. Still, it was a long-winded answer that could have been shorter.   
"Was it.....soul crushing to teach?" I ask him. Another laugh from him after the question is asked.   
"I taught drama, I hardly did anything but tell them to do a play and fuck off. Didn't get screamed at everyday. Did you ever get rid of the manager from hell?" He asks. Gods I wish.   
"No. They refused to fire her despite several harassment reports and the fact that she barely ever came in." I answer. Even just thinking about her makes my blood boil.   
If I ever see her again I will beat her half to death. She singled me out and to this day I have no clue why. I was never rude to her, I was a good agent, I stayed out of her way. But she honed in on me and bullied me for months before I stopped allowing it. I didn't sit back and take it at any point, but at first when she did it it was small jabs at my work performance that were legitimate. Then she moved to berating me instead of helping me, and my last straw before I took action was her intentionally inducing a panic attack. It was subtle how she managed that one, and honestly very well executed to make her look innocent. I have a Panic Disorder. Managers know this about me because it's relevant to how I do my job. I have to sit in a place where no one is behind me. That was the only request I had. It isn't hard. She put me in the middle of a row where no one was behind me, THEN she put all of our Christmas decorations on a table behind my entire row and had people come over to look them over and judge them for a contest. Everyone on the floor knew at this point that I didn't like people behind me, and they without fail all respected it. But this made that impossible for them to do. A few people would come over, stand behind me, I'd spin around in my chair until they left.   
It took nearly the entire day for the slow trickle of people to push me over the edge, but when it did I went apeshit and left for the day. Went to HR about it, got told they couldn't prove anything and I had to deal with it. After that I moved to another team without approval or permission and refused to move back despite being told to by the site director himself. At first it was just random agents from our team whom I would tell to fuck off, then other managers from her side of the room. The manager that I sat next to, though, was a good person and my favourite manager, and told THEM to fuck off. Then Rayna came for me herself and I didn't so much as look at her when she spoke to me. It wasn't just me doing this from her team, my boyfriend at the time was having similar if not worse issues with her at the time and had moved with me. When we wouldn't so much as look at her when she spoke to us is when she went over her own head to her boss, the manager for the campaign, who was very kind and understanding. She told Rayna to let it go and shut up about it. About a week after that the site director pulled us into his office and tried intimidating us into moving. Until he got the full story of the conflict. After that even he told her to fuck off.   
"May I ask you a question?" Greg asks me once I've gone quiet again. I frown without looking at him, but nod. "What happened earlier on the train? It can't have been nothing if you were as upset as you were." He asks. Fuck. I sigh.   
"Jon just woke me up. My body thought we were being robbed and I pulled a knife on him." I answer quietly. If he's going to keep asking I'll give up and fucking tell him.   
"You had a knife?" He asks. I nod again. "Where the fuck was that? I never saw a knife on you." he sounds almost amused, which confuses me quite a bit.   
"Uh.....keep it in a pocket most of the time? That doesn't.....freak you out?" I ask him nervously. He shrugs.   
"Don't see why it would. You're alone in a country you don't know, it would be irresponsible not to take some precautions. I wouldn't let my sister go anywhere without her baton." He answers. Sister? He has a sister?   
"Usually creep people out." I admit quietly. Sister. I thought he'd be an only child with his personality.   
"You would only scare me if you tired using it on me, Love. Something tells me you have good reason to want it on you, and for that I'm sorry." I frown up at him, then look away again feeling my stomach flip over. Him being as kind as he is while still being funny has brought my mood back up a considerable amount. I've let go of being anxious with him here, and am now just nervous being around him again.   
"Is your....is the cab still here? Cause if it is you're going to owe a fuck ton of money." I ask him suddenly. He smirks deviously before changing the expression to one of coy curiosity. Back to the flirting. Good.   
"Trying to get rid of me, are you?" He asks. "Have a devilishly handsome man to join you you don't want anyone to know about?" Oh gods. Gross. I laugh again.   
"Oh yeah. I have several suitors that I see at staggered times of the day, you know just one isn't ever going to be enough." I answer sarcastically. He chuckles.   
"You're running an underground scheme of fetishists, I'm sure of it." He continues.   
"So much dirty kinky shit you'd be scarred for life." I add. This makes him narrow his eyes.   
"You think you can scar me for life with the bullshit I've seen. I fucked a stuffed bear for a number of years, beat that." I cover my mouth to not laugh.   
"Oh poor innocent Gregory. That's not that bad." I offer while patting him on the shoulder. In the scheme of things it's actually pretty tame.   
"I think you're bluffing there." He challenges. Oh gods, you don't want to go down that road with me I will win.   
"You think?" I ask him. He stands up a bit taller, crossing his arms and nodding his head.   
"I don't think you're kinky enough to have anything worse than that. I'd say fuckin a stuffed bear's pretty out there. I'm calling your bluff, you're too cute to know kinky shit." This both insults me and makes me want to kiss him again. I hated being called cute for the longest time as a kid, but the last few years I use it to my advantage.   
"Do you really wanna go down that road? You can't turn back if you do." I warn. he smirks, but shrugs. Shit. Okay the most fucked up shit. "Meat Girls." I state. He frowns.   
"I somehow doubt that's a woman made of raw meat but I wouldn't be surprised." He says. I shake my head.   
"Girl gets skewered and cooked over a fire like a roasted rat and gets off on it." I explain. he genuinely looks disgusted by this, and I grin at my victory. "What do I get if I win this bet? I think I just won." I ask.   
"You're into being COOKED?" He asks. I step back with a laugh, bending down to put my hands on my thighs while doing so.  
"HELL no! Fuck, Gregory, that's a fucked up kink. But it IS a kink, there's a shit ton of material on the internet about it. What do I win? I won the bet." I ask again. I got very curious about sexual weirdness a few years back and stumbled, completely by accident, on the cannibalism fetishists. I wasn't and still am not into it, but reading into was horrifically fascinating.   
"How on earth do you know about that? That can't be real. That's not real." He argues. I shrug.   
"I can assure you it is, in fact, very real. And very fucked up. Gods....did you really think I'd be into that? I mean I'm weird but I'm not THAT weird." His eyes light up with this statement.   
"You're kinky?" he asks. Oh gods I hate this direction. I pull my phone back out to search the fetish while thinking of an answer for him.   
"That, dear Gregory, is privileged information. See? Here it is." I hold out my phone for him to take, which he does, and is immediately disgusted.   
"Christ what the fuck kind of world do we live in?" He asks very obviously disgusted by what he's seeing. "How in the world did you find this? You've got to have weird kinks if it lead you to this." He asks. I take my phone back wit a shrug.   
"Honestly this was an accident. But yeah it's pretty fucked up." I say a bit sheepishly. "But you kind of asked to be scarred for life, so I refuse to feel bad about exposing you to that. Dear, sweet, innocent Gregory." I tease again, though I am still very nervous about the subject.   
This is something that I've done several times in the past, more out of spite than anything else. When I was a kid I refused to be what everyone thought I was, which was a little girl. And I was a very angry person for the longest time. In situations like this where I prove just how much I know about the fucked up side of sex, I usually do it do shift discomfort. I hate being uncomfortable and people used to always make me as uncomfortable or pissed off as they could just for the fuck of it, and I would use this knowledge to shift discomfort onto them. It's amusing. And I hate people doubting me. Being the youngest and usually the smallest made people think me weak or unable to care for myself and I love the underestimation sometimes, but as an angry kid it annoyed me to no end and I'd say very weird shit to get them to shut up about me. The sex subject is the easiest one to use to make people shut the fuck up because, as badass and sexy as they think they are, most people are really ignorant to the more extreme kinks out there.   
"This still begs the question, what led you to find this. Are you secretly a kinky girl?" He asks deviously. I roll my eyes. I am, but not in the ways you're thinking. As into somethings I am, it's in theory not practice I'm terribly vanilla. I hate this question.   
"Like I said, privileged information. Gods how did this conversation take this turn?" I ask him while trying very hard not to be as awkward as I feel.   
"He laughs.   
"You keep trying to get rid of me and made the comment that you had a secret lover. I'm not entirely convinced you don't otherwise you wouldn't be reluctant to answer my questions. Unless you're hinting that you wanted me to get the answers from you." He explains simply. The last statement makes me feel like I'm in trouble for some reason, but hearing how he says it and seeing him when he says it quells that feeling pretty fast. Are you insinuating that I'm trying to get you to fuck me to know if I'm kinky? I mean I guess that's sort of what I'm saying but it's not intentional.   
"Get the answers from me?" I ask him challengingly. It catches him off guard for about a half second before he steadies and nods. "You could try but I'm not inclined to give out privileged information. Spoilers, though, I'm not that kinky. You don't seem like the kinky type, either." I admit quietly, resigning myself to closing the door to the apartment since he's already in the door. After the door is closed I awkwardly with my beck to it leaning against it while he stands a few feet in front of me.   
"You're probably one of the only people that's said that about me." He says with an amused laugh making me tilt my head in confusion. "People assume I'm a dominant man in bed, nearly everyone out there." He explains. Why though?   
"Am I off on that? I'm usually good at reading that in people, are you super kinky Gregory?" I ask him with genuine curiosity while maintaining the flirty tone. He shrugs and says what I assume he'd when I ask the question.   
"Privileged information." He says with a smirk. Gods you suck. I cross my arms at this point and try to figure out why people would think he's super kinky. His personality of being super kind all the time is contradictive of that. WILTY. He was super suggestive and gives that vibe off in public like that. I didn't experience enough of him like that for him to give off the vibe. I mean I always hope for that outcome in the guys I'm attracted to but he's just so nice.   
"TaskMaster. Your character is called TaskMaster?" I ask him. He seems confused but he nods, which I mirror. "Used to be a teacher, have a show like that.........I'm assuming you're domineering in that role and people anymore just have a daddy kink in general, I guess I can see it. You still don't give off the impression that you're a dom. Switch for sure, but not strictly dom." I mumble to myself more than to him. I cringe at myself when I say this realizing that it's been said out loud. "Shit sorry. That's....a lot. Sorry." I shake my head at myself.   
"You're not wrong, it seems everyone has that kink nowadays. What does being a teacher have to do with it?" He asks me. Good question.   
"It's not a you thing, people see teachers turned entertainers and they're either pricks or secret sexual......like....fuckin icons I don't know. Am I right? You're not?" I ask him again hoping he'll answer me this time just so I know if I'm right or not. He again narrows his eyes and I know he won't answer me honestly. "Seriously, is the cab still here or did you assume you were going to be here for forever?" I ask him while trying very hard to get less serious about the situation. "Cause if you assumed I'd let you in, how dare you, but if they're still here you're terrible." He laughs at my mockery of him.   
"I gave him a large tip and asked if he'd wait for five minutes. I don't like making assumptions about how a situation will go. I promise I'm not that much of a prick." He answers. OH. That's a smarter idea. Poor driver, though, had to be a weird as fuck tab to have gotten. "Are you wanting me to go? I can see when I've overstayed my welcome, I don't want to with you." He asks.   
"You're not unwelcome I'm terrible at holding a conversation. And I'm sorry for making it weird with the kink shit. Uhm....but there's nothing to do here unless you're here to try to fuck me and unfortunately that's just....not happening right now." I rush through the speaking while avoiding eye contact with him. Dating is not something I'm good at, and I've only ever had two other guys that wanted to fuck without anything else involved and I turned them both down because I know I can't separate screwing and giving a shit about people. I'd love to be able to but I know myself well enough to know that I can't. It's cost me before with one of those guys but ultimately he was the one that regretted it, which he proved by apologizing to me a year or so after.   
"I promise that's not why I came back to you, darling. I wanted your number so I could properly ask you out when I had the chance. Nearly shit myself when I realized I hadn't gotten it, yet. But since I'm here now, did you have any plans tonight?" He asks. The question makes me go ice cold. Tonight? That's so soon. That's so much sooner than I thought. I mean I'll be honest and say I didn't think it would happen at all. "I'll take you silence as you coming up with a reason to turn me down." He says a bit jokingly. Shit.   
"No gods no not at all sorry." I blurt. "Just wasn't expecting you to follow through. Kind of.......thought you just wanted sex to be honest." I answer him quietly but honestly. My track record, while short, is not that great with guys.   
"I mean I want sex but I can't just have sex and walk away. My generation aren't as cold as yours." He defends. I roll my eyes again.   
"My generation has been kicked and beaten by yours INTO being cold. You're cold, we're the most open and loving. And generational gaps are stupid anyways. I can't.....I can't personally fuck without giving a shit." I argue. Again, generational arguments are tedious to me. He's amused by the argument and takes a couple of steps towards me. "Anyways, what did you have in mind for tonight?" I ask him nervously. No sex yet. I want to fuck him, more I want him to fuck me, but I'm not going to be a cheap fuck. I refuse. He shrugs again, now looking at if he's the one that's been put on the spot.   
"I hadn't quite thought that far ahead to be honest with you. I don't like the cliche` of taking you to a movie. I did say I could take you to dinner. Dinner?" He asks. The process of him talking through this is adorable and helps me feel a bit less worried about me being the awkward one in the room. My phone buzzes in my pocket just after he asks me this question, which helps me not feel as awkward in the situation when I take it out for something else to look at. Rob. Of course you're texting me again, I'm not at all surprised.   
"I'm sorry, Rob....." I shake my head and look back at Greg instead of my phone. "That could be good. But......stipulation?" I ask him, my playful mood returning to me when an idea hits my brain. He nods at me so I continue. "Instead of it being a fancy place for the sake of being fancy, pick a place that you enjoy?" I ask him. The idea is lower stress about the date and get to know him some more based on his top place to go. Granted showing someone something you love is stressful in it's own way, in that there's a lot of room for rejection and judgement, but trying to go all out to be impressive is stupid.   
"I can do that. Interesting idea, do you have any foods you hate?" He asks. Many.   
"Sushi. Anything.....like Thai or Cajun." I answer honestly. It would be easier to tell him what I do like instead of what I don't but I don't exactly want to say that to him.   
"Right, I can manage that without issue. I'll come to pick you up at.....seven thirty?" He asks me. I pull out my phone again to see the time. 4:30. That's not a great amount of time between then and now but it's better than if we did go now. I could be less fucked in a couple of hours, unpack and clean a little bit. Seven thirty is a good time.   
"Sounds good. And......" I take another deep breath as I open the door for him to leave. "Just to avoid the awkwardness of it later, how do you want to pay for it? Split?" I ask him. It's been a nightmarish experience in the past with other people -not just going on a date - when it comes to pay and I'm not sure if it's polite to pay or split and I'm always too afraid to ask. I never wanted anyone to think I was asking to be a dickhead about it.   
"I'm takin you out, I'll be paying for it, darling." He says as he's walking out the door. Right. Cool, okay I can adjust for that, then. "I'll see you in a few hours." He smiles when he says this and I can't not smile back.   
"See you then." I wait until he's begun to walk away to close the door behind him. Fuck. Three hours. I remember that rob sent a message, so I open and read it.   
'I've confirmed you're being invited back to WILTY next week.' Not what I was expecting you to say. Cool.   
'Baller. Don't forget, only one truth and the rest lies.' I send back. Clean. I put on some music and start the process of dealing with my trainwreck of an apartment.   
My apartment is pretty decently sized for someone like me. The front door opens into a main room split into two with the kitchen on the left and the living room to the right. Across from the main door is a small hallway containing doors to the bathroom and bedroom. The main room is about thirty feet wide and seventeen feet deep with ceilings at about twelve feet tall. The entire place has hardwood floors that I love despite them being cold and easy to slip on. The kitchen isn't too big since the hallway encroaches on it a bit and gives it three and a half walls instead of just three. There's an oven against the left wall with counter on either side of it and cupboards above it. The sink is against the wall that's shared with my bathroom. The refrigerator is against the wall shared with the hallway. The living room on the right side when entering the apartment is honestly not one I care for too much. I have a grey sectional couch that I mess around with quite often, and was the first piece of true furniture that I got for the apartment. It takes up most of the space, which is intentional, and acts as a barrier between the front door and the smaller space between it and the wall with the television. I have yet to get a table for any part of the apartment.   
I have a large black bookshelf against the wall shared with the hallway that has only a few books and acts as a storage space for random shit. Currently there's three plates and five glasses half-full of random drinks I never finish. When I said I had no tables for the entire apartment, I was lying. There's a table that the television rests on against the wall that's shared with my bedroom. My two gaming consoles are on shelves just below the one the television is on, and I have all of three games between the two of them placed on top of them. The actual space between the couch and television is a mess that's hard to see unless you're standing just at the back of the couch. I'm a trash person in that I am a slob. There's three large quilts on the floor that I use, not to make me warm, but for cushioning. You heard me correct, I sit on the floor instead of the couch. Like a moron. The space has the three quilts, several notebooks, various different art supplies, clothes, and a lot of bags from various places I'd ordered food from.   
The two other rooms. The bathroom is relatively small, just a shower against the back wall, a toilet, and the counter. It's maybe seven feet by six. There's two towels, both hung up over the curtain rod for the shower, and one bottle of shampoo and conditioner. The room is almost completely devoid of anything. My bedroom is surprisingly the cleanest in the apartment. The place came with a bed to it, which I never used because sleeping on the floor is more comfortable to me. Unfortunately it's the only thing that came with the apartment and I am unable to remove it or get rid of it for some reason that I don't give enough of a shit about to find out why. I shoved it against the wall closest to the door to maximize the space. I use it for the rest of my collection of blankets. I have several of them and always used to hate that I didn't use them as much as I'd like so I got here and put them all on the bed if I wasn't actively using them to sleep. I only have a few things in here, that being a tub of clothes that my mother was kind enough to send me from home.   
The weirdest part of the apartment is the walk-in closet. For reasons that even I don't understand about myself, I've always preferred sleeping in small spaces. Whether it's a fort or a closet or just a small room it's typically where I sleep. The biggest reasons that I've been able to com up with are that I'm small and small spaces are easy to control when you fit in them, I'm slightly agoraphobic, and I don't like taking up more space than is necessary. The closet is four feet wide and seven feet deep, with shelves at about shoulder height to me and a single light in the ceiling. I have a foam mattress that's about three inches thick that I have wrapped in fleece throw blankets. On top of that are another two big quilts and a smaller furry blanket that I use for a pillow. They're accompanied by two body pillows at each side of the mattress so act as buffers between me and the walls. I have taped up white fairy lights to the edges of the shelves to have a better aesthetic in the space. The shelves have nothing on them apart from a Bluetooth speaker, a spare iPod, and a few stuffed animals. There'd be more, but my mother hasn't been able to send me more of my things for awhile now due to travel restrictions and the fact that it's late September and shipping anything right now would be a mistake given the closeness to holidays.


	14. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally have a DATE

Calm down, it isn't that big of a deal you need to calm the fuck down right now. Breathe. My mind orders me. I have my eyes closed and I'm sitting hugging my legs to my chest in my living room trying not to have an anxiety attack. I know realistically I won't have one but I've been extremely anxious for the last half hour or so. I've managed to clean most of the apartment, take a shower, and then obsess over what I should do for the date. When I knew it was fancy I'd thought I'd go for fancy clothes, but now that I'm not sure I have no idea how to dress. Trust me this is not an issue I ever thought I'd have. I always dress for comfort over style or impressions, but tonight I just want him to think I put an effort in. I landed on wearing a nice longer sleeved shirt and have my favourite button up letterman's jacket. It's nice, but it's not anything to actually do with sports. I got it online because it has Iron Man and his symbol on it. I've chosen to have my hair down so I can hide in it if I need to at any time and hopefully to help keep wind off my ears.   
"God fuck." I blurt when I hear the buzzing of my pa system. Shit I don't know if I'm ready yet. I get up quickly and grab my small clutch bag, phone, and hat. The bag, while very small and thin, has a good bit of shit in it because I'm paranoid. I have my wallet in it, but all cash is in the pocket of the shorts I'm wearing under my cargo pants. My father was in the navy and told me he always kept his cash and ID in his socks in case he got mugged overseas. I don't wear socks but no one ever thinks that you would have more pockets inside your pants. The clutch has my wallet, keys, phone, small push dagger, and a small pad and pen. I go to the door and stand there for a moment so I can put my beanie on. It's the one thing I have on me that I know will make me adorable while keeping my head warm. After getting it on and taking a few deep breaths, I hit the button to talk to him. "I'll be right there." I say, then I wait for his response if he gives one.   
"Alright." Cool. Elevator so I don't come out sweating. I'm already sweaty enough from the stress, I don't need the added smell. While I'm in the elevator I force some very deep breaths in and out of myself to center back in on reality. It gets worse and worse until the doors open to the lobby and I'm finally allowed to calm my nerves some. To put it into perspective how anxious I am, if I were to hold my hand out it would be shaking in the slightest. Greg smiles when he sees me through the glass front door, and I nod to greet him before joining him outside. I already know it's freezing cold when I see his breath every time he takes one. I got this. It's just a date, nothing to worry about. "Good evening, Love." He greets cheerfully. For a moment I can't find my voice, but I get it back once another deep breath is forced into my lungs.   
"Hello." I greet. I almost ask him how his day is going until I realize that it's only feel a few hours since we were together last. "Where are we going?" I ask him, following him to where his car is parked. It's a black SUV. I half expect it to be another cab driver but he gets into the driver's seat while I get to the passenger's.   
"Across the city a bit. You're absolutely adorable in that hat." He comments, looking at the character that's on my head. It's my favourite hat to wear and one of the only beanies I can wear that doesn't make my head itch. It's got Stitch on it, meaning that it's entirely blue with big eyes and pink horns.   
"I'm always adorable." I shoot at him sarcastically. He chuckles and tilts his head in agreement. "What kind of place it we're going?" I ask him. Since the days are shorter now, it's twilight outside and the clouds that blanket the sky only make it that much darker. I love this time of night here because of how the colour of the clouds creates a greenhouse affect and colours the rest o the world similarly. When that is mixed with the city and the lights of the city it create a truly beautiful ambience.   
"You'll just have to see when we get there." He answers. Ah fuck off, then.   
"Crowded type of place?" I press. It's really the more important of the questions. If it's crowded and I know now then I can prepare myself for it. I look at him after a few seconds of silence and find that he's pursed his lips together and has a small smirk on his face. "Alright then, keep your secrets." I mutter, though I smile when he looks at me. Across the city. I think that's where........fuck I don't know enough about the city yet to know. Damnit I thought I was getting used to this place. I typically make it my mission to learn where shit is in every city I live in. However this is much more of a challenge than just a small city.   
"It's going to be about thirty minutes to get there with the traffic. Do you want to play music?" He asks me. Music. YES. I feel a smirk creep across my face at the offer. He hands me the auxiliary cord and I take it to connect my phone. What to play what to play. Could go with a song he'd know. I imagine he has fun complaining that younger people have no good taste in music. But he could see that as me trying to suck up to him or impress him. Musical whiplash has never failed you. True. Always go with that. Musical whiplash is what I do when someone lets me have control over their music system for the first time. It consists of playing a relative normal song that people recognize and tend to enjoy, then I play another song that's at the exact opposite end of the spectrum from it.   
"Preferences?" I ask him before choosing a song. He shakes his head.   
"Not a fan of country." He answers, making me nearly kiss him right then and there. I nod and select a song from a jazz-esque band. It's not a well known band, nor is there music easily identified by anyone that doesn't listen to it too often.   
I'll go with these guys first.....then......this is grouped in with classical music for interests and operas, and the people that are on the other side of that spectrum tend to be.....faster. Louder, too. I want to say rap or electronic but they're both actually pretty close to this. I'll go with.....fuck should I should I do TOP after this? They're my favourite, I don't want anyone shitting on them. Maybe instead of them I'll play the other Scene Gods band. I scroll through my library of 1300 songs to see if I can find a better song to follow this one up. Gods I want to play a rap song just to show off that I can rap really fast but that's way too self-serving. OH that's not a bad choice, that's pretty different from this. He'd HATE that song. True. Moving on, then. Sex song? Explicit sex song? No he already thinks I'm kinky, I don't want to strengthen that idea. That one. That one? Yes. It's insane but it's also fun. True. He might hate it, though. Who cares, it's a fun song to play. OR I could play this one. It's fun and not anywhere near as crazy. I'm going with this one. I select the song and then choose the option for having it play next. Then I turn my phone off and set it down in my lap. This will be good.   
"I did not peg you for a jazz girl. Are you playing this to impress me?" He asks sarcastically. I snort.   
"No. You like Jazz?" I ask him, to which he nods.   
"I quite like most music. I hate it if it's a cover of an old song." He answers. I love new covers of old songs, they're fun. People hate change. True. If someone covers one of TOP's songs I tend to hate it for awhile on the principle. "What about you? Do you listen to this all the time?" He asks. I shake my head with a smile, looking out the window to watch the city go by. Hope it rains. "What do you listen to?" Great question.   
"Almost everything. Long as it isn't death metal, gospel, or country. Favourite band?" I ask. It's a terrible small talk question that rarely ever tells you anything about a person as a whole, but it's helpful in situations that involve music. My parents were both music junkies, so I was raised listening to just about everything. I also have the very pretentious-sounding gift of perfect pitch, which makes me love music all the more. They would go to concerts as often as they could afford to, maybe once every two or three years, and when I got old enough to go they'd take me with them. This makes it sound as if they're still together, my parents, they aren't. They would go to concerts on their own or with a friend of theirs, they've never been to the same concert at the same time.   
"Oh fuck, you can't go wrong with Queen." He answers. Queen is baller.   
"Brian May, my boy. Astrophysicist turned band god. I fucking love him." I blurt without thinking. The jazz song has just about ended by now and I'm trying not to be unreasonably excited for his reaction to the dramatic change in music. He gives me a weird look when I speak, though.   
"You're a fan?" He asks. Yes, Gregory, younglings can enjoy good music from all generations.   
"A bit, yeah." I answer quietly. The song ends and the next starts with a screech of the lead singer. I remember the first time playing this song in my mother's car while she was driving. The screech scared her so badly she stopped the car thinking she'd hit someone. Funniest reaction ever. Greg sits up straight in shock at the screech, but only continues to look confused as the song continues. To this, I can't hide my grin. Goteem. It doesn't always work, musical whiplash, but when it does it's truly a great feeling. He looks at me after a few moments only to find that I'm giving him an arrogant smile. He narrows his eyes when sees that I'd intended to do this to him and slowly looks back at the street in front of us. Get fucked, idiot. "So......are there any topics you don't like to discuss? Either about yourself or just in general?" I ask him after a few minutes and the sing ends.   
I don't tend to ask the question a lot because it's very weird in nature, but it makes things easier when trying to get to know people. I always say it's okay to ask me anything, but I'll tell them when I don't want to answer. It's not to be a shit person about it, I just have certain things I don't talk about at certain times that I would otherwise be fine with talking about. The only things I really don't touch on are religion and politics. Not because I don't pay attention or don't care, but because I can't argue without getting emotional and wanting to pick a physical fight. I recognize that in myself enough to know that bringing it up will only ever spark a debate that will end in someone going to a hospital. It's cowardly of me, and again I totally understand I'm stupid for leaving it at the door, but my mental health is more important than screaming at people that won't change their minds. There's no subject about myself that I'm not willing to discuss most of the time, or my family. But other people tend to have shit they don't like putting out there.   
"Not really, no. Why do you ask? That's an odd question." He asks. Yup. Never been called out on it being weird before, though, that's new.   
"I don't like asking something that pisses people off or upsets them. Makes it easier to know what to avoid." I answer simply. He hums and nods.   
"That's quite clever, actually. Is there anything you don't want to be asked, aside from your very sexual desires?" He asks me, making me roll my eyes.   
"No not really." I answer. "And I didn't flat out refuse to answer that, I just said it was privileged information." He stares out of the windshield in confusion. I can all but hear him blue-screening in his head.   
"And how does one gather the priviliged information?" He returns to his devious voice again. I almost say 'become a privileged person', but don't due to how ridiculous it sounds.   
"Let's see how tonight goes, you might get the answers you seek." I answer cryptically. What I really mean by it being privileged is that I don't want just anyone to know what I'm into sexually. It's personal - very personal - and embarrassing for me to admit. I'm not ashamed of myself, kinks are kinks and they aren't bad as long as no one gets non-consensually hurt. But this doesn't erase the fact that it's embarrassing for people to know about me.   
"Here's to hoping tonight goes well, then." Indeed. "You doing better from this morning? You seem less upset." He asks this about twenty minutes later as I'm nearly completely tuned out from the world around me listening to the music and thinking about the possibilities of what happens after dinner.   
"Yeah I'm good. Still feel bad for Jon, I think he thinks I want to kill him or something." Greg laughs and I smile, but I really do feel bad about it. I asked Rob to apologize for me again just to make sure Jon knows it wasn't intentional. Greg laughs.   
"I'm happy you're better. I wasn't sure asking you out tonight would have been a good idea after this morning." He admits. I shrug it off. I still feel terrible but I can move on. It's not like anyone actually got hurt. If he got hurt I'd never forgive myself, but honestly in this situation it's almost amusing what happened. I'm sure it would have been a laugh all around if there weren't a knife involved. "I've a question for you." He begins another couple of quiet minutes later. I look at him and narrow my eyes.   
"Shoot." I answer. He's pulling off into a small parking lot of what looks to be a small shack. I like it already.   
"I've been bullied into offering you a place on the next season of Taskmaster by Alex. Would you be comfortable being apart of it?" He asks. I feel cold again, but excited.   
"Uh......gods that......how long do I have to decide? I wanna see some of it before I agree to be a Guinee pig." I answer. He nods.   
"You've plenty of time, darling." He answers. Good.   
"So you were bullied, does that mean that you didn't want me there?" I ask in a coy way. He laughs and shakes his head.   
"Not atoll, I believe it would be loads of fun if you let it, but you don't seem like quite the social person. You're quiet, you're shy - which I find adorable - but I wouldn't want to put you on the spot if you don't enjoy these situations." He answers while parking the car. I nod my head, mostly focused on the fact that he has, again, called me adorable.   
"You aren't wrong. I don't know why you're....group of people have Shanghaied me, it's the weirdest shit. Like.....I gave up trying to tell you people I'm not one of you." I explain with a smile. It's genuinely something that's confused me from day one. They adopted me and refuse to accept that I'm not a comedian. "But uh.....lemmie watch it first and see what kind of bullshittery happens." I state with a nod. I finally open my door to the car and begin to get out mostly so we can move from the car to the food. I'm starving and haven't eaten a thing all day. Not that this isn't something I haven't done before, I am terrible at eating, but it's annoying when it happens.   
"Bullshittery is the best way to describe it. I would love to ridicule you on that show, it would create an immeasurable amount of sexual tension." He says with a smile. Sexual tension? Yeah I guess that's a thing that happens here in these shows. American shows were never really like that.   
"Ridicule me? Are you assuming I'm going to do bad?" I ask him, grabbing the door to the small place to hold it for him. The action amuses him as he hesitates for a moment and remembers why I'm the one doing it.   
"Uhm......most people complete the tasks without putting much thought into them, but that's all I'm telling you until you see the show." He explains. Right, you suck.   
The place isn't just small, but a place with no indoor or outdoor seating. There's just a counter with one person standing behind it looking bored out of his mind. The small room we're in, about fifteen by twelve feet, is dimly lit by lights in the ceiling and the lit up menu boards behind the counter. It smells really good, like bread and garlic mixed together, which almost immediately makes the place feel warm despite the actual temperature. There's only two windows, both at the front of the building, but both are small and have their thin curtains drawn which is why I hadn't noticed them before we came in. The menu, which is the first thing I look at, has only a few things on it that take up one of the lit up boards of which there are three. The other two have the drink specials and the daily special. The food is primarily pizza, they show ten different kinds they make with the standard size comparison on the wall just underneath them. Pizza. Baller I love pizza. The man behind the counter straightens and smiles at us when we walk in.   
"Good evening. How are you two doing tonight?" He asks us in a voice that at first doesn't match his face at all. He looks like he should have a deep voice, tall and very slightly built with a serious look before he smiles at us. His voice on the other hand is relatively high pitched. Basic Bitch number one or Basic Bitch number two? I ask myself. One. Two is only good at some places and I've never been here before. Valid.   
"Yeah not bad, yourself?" Greg answers him. I follow him to the counter while awkwardly standing one step behind him and to his right. So this means that he isn't intending to eat here.   
Is he.....fucking planning on ordering food and luring me back to his place for sex? He could have just said that's what he wanted to do from the start, why get food at all? Why call it a fucking date? As per usual my brain overreacts and starts to make me feel both pissed off and depressed. Given how the day has gone so far, the depression is winning over the anger. That's the reason he wouldn't just say you should have sex. Statistically you're less likely to turn him down if you're 1. in a space you're not familiar with, and 2. he bought you food so you'd feel obligated to return kindness. Well he's fucked if he thinks that's going to work because it won't. I don't owe anyone anything. HE invited me out, HE said he'd pay, and HE said he wanted to get to know me. I will walk away faster than he can think if that's what this is. Unfamiliar place is scary, yes, but I'd rather get to know more of the city than be manipulated into fucking someone that's lying to me. Gods I can't believe I thought anyone would want to know me, what a joke.   
"D'you care what's on the pizza?" Greg asks me when the guy behind the counter asks him what we want. I don't look at Greg when I answer for fear that he'll see how much this has gotten to me already. I don't want him thinking I'm pissed off if there's a chance I'm wrong about the situation.   
"I really only ever get pepperoni." I answer him quietly. What if you get back to his place and turn him down and he tries forcing you? I won't let it get that far. When we leave here I'm asking him where we're going and if he says his place I'm gone. And I will kill anyone that thinks they can force themselves on me, Gregory included.   
"Get that in a large, and.......what would you like to drink?" Greg asks. I look up at the menu again to find my go-to drink.   
"Pepsi, please?" I ask the guy behind the counter instead of Greg. He smiles and nods.   
"Two of those, thanks." I should tell him as soon as we're in the car again I don't just want to have sex. Fuck I should tell him I don't want sex at all tonight, I'm not sure if I do at this point.   
"That should take about fifteen minutes, is that okay?" The guy behind the counter asks us. Enough time to ask him where the fuck this night is going, yeah.  
"That's great, thanks." Greg answers before paying and then we walk back out to his car. I'm asking him. But...how should I phrase it? I overreact a lot and don't want to make him think I'm accusing him of something. It's insane to be fine one second and confrontational the next without explanation. I take a deep breathe once we're both back in the car.   
"Where are we going after this?" I ask him while trying my best to sound curious rather than depressed or angry.   
"Not back to my place if that's what you're thinkin." He answers quickly. I let out my air and nod. Good. Not back to yours. Then where the fuck ARE we going? This is shady as fuck. "What were we talking about before?" He asks more himself than me. Your show and how I might be in it.   
"You said you'd have fun ridiculing me on your show to create sexual tension." I answer simply while staring out the windshield without really seeing anything.   
"Right. I won't be telling you more until you watch I said." He continues. Yup.   
"I'll probably start tonight or tomorrow, then. So pizza and then......?" I ask again. Maybe it's light-hearted and he just wants to get pizza and do something fun? I don't know, it's just weird.   
"Then we go somewhere else and enjoy it." He answers with a smug smirk, making me want to slap him a little bit. Jerkface. I shake my head with a sigh. Fine.   
"So........" My mind goes completely blank when I start to ask him a question about himself. Fuck I can't remember what I was going to say at all. Fuck. Stupid brain. "How much time do I have before I have to give you a formal answer on TaskMaster?" I ask him in a panic to find something to fill the void of silence with. He scratches his chin while he thinks about the answer.   
"Probably a week? Alex is sure to reach out to you within that time." He answers. Week. I can get enough information on it in that timeframe, I guess. "It'll be loads of fun if you're there, and I'll be sure to make you squirm being my task slave." He answers. The heat in my chest from the anger of a few minutes ago moves down to my stomach. You did say you liked doing that to me yesterday. Gods how did I forget about that? That in and of itself shows he's dominant in some capacity, and fuck was he good at it I almost started begging you to fuck me. Task slave is a bit too kinky for me but it still makes me want to fuck you.   
"Do that at your own risk, Gregory, two can play that game." I warn. We share arrogant smiles after I say this. I'm not great in public, I tend to say weird shit instead of smart shit but I'd like to make you think I'd be badass in that situation. "Task slave. Do we call you TaskMaster the whole time?" I ask him. If we do I will absolutely refuse to use it. Either that or I will say it in the most sarcastic way possible. No respect.   
"We can have that be one of your own personal tasks." He answers. Oooh, that could be interesting. So certain people have their own tasks, then? Or does everyone do the same ones all the time? I really need to watch it to understand it more. "For the duration of the series you must always refer to the TaskMaster as TaskMaster." I roll my eyes at him, making him laugh. "You didn't have a problem calling me sir on the train - and can I just say that was incredibly sexy." He continues. Fuck off, that was......I mean it was supposed to be sexual but that was just you and me and it was just to be funny.   
"Sir is easier than TaskMaster. You're into being called sir?" I ask him a bit nervously. I only ever say it to be funny or make a situation sexual in a fun way. It's never been serious and I doubt I'd ever have the confidence to truly commit to saying it.   
"What man in his right mind wouldn't love being called sir? I loved it." He answers cheerfully. Yup. Every man likes to be called sir, it's just biology.   
"Well if you think that calling you TaskMaster would get to me you're wrong." I say absently while thinking about him telling me to watch myself or he'd be tempted to 'ravage me', when we were on the train. It was hot as fuck and I'd wanted him to hold to that promise so badly.   
"You're into it." He states. It seems like a question but doesn't really sound like one. I shrug.   
"Not particularly, no. Master is way too......elevated a title for someone. But again, if you think you'll be the only one squirming you're mistaken. Authority figures tend to make me aggressive." It doesn't come out sounding quite how I'd prefer it to but I accept the sexual undertones without correcting myself. He hums again.   
"I'd love to see that side of you." He says quietly. I giggle at his remark.   
"I bet you would." I shoot back. My mind supplies a scenario in which I'm straddling him. Not something I enjoy doing since I hate control, but it still makes me want him more. My phone buzzes in my pocket, again almost making me jump out of my skin. Which makes Greg laugh. "Sorry do you mind?" I ask him before taking it out. He shakes his head. Cool. Rob again. I'm not surprised, we talk all the time. This is true. He's one of the people that genuinely surprises me with just how much he texts people.   
'Looks to be Jimmy Carr instead of Ayoade. Everyone else has been secured for next week's show.' Fuck. Not Carr. Him AND Lee? Gods that will be a shit show for me.   
"Great." I mutter before answering the text. 'Coolio. Thanks for the update." I send back to him in response.   
"Something the matter?" Greg asks at my now displeased state. Fuck. Date. I'm on a date with Greg. I can't get pissed off on a date with Greg, I'll get over it.   
"Uh..." I shake my head. "Rob's bringing me back on next week." I answer him. I need to get another question for him but they all sound so fucking pathetic. I want a GOOD question.   
"I thought you enjoyed being on it this last time?" He asks me. I nod again.   
"Yeah well I enjoyed eye-fucking you the whole time. He's got....fuckin....." I huff. "Carr on it." I mutter. I hate Jimmy Carr. There's no reason for it, nothing that's valid, but every time I see him or hear him talk I want to literally beat him to death. I've never known why, and there's only ever been one other person to evoke such a visceral anger response from me but they deserved it. I've never even MET Carr and I want to kill him.   
"You don't like Carr I'm assuming? Is it the laugh?" He asks me. I shake my head. "Why don't you like him?" Great question, I wish I knew.   
"I don't know. Genuinely I have no idea, I just......" I sigh again. This is going to make me kind of sound like a psychopath." I warn him. He narrows his eyes but nods. "He evokes pure unadulterated rage and I have no clue why. I mean......there's no reason for it I just hate him." I explain quickly. It's the same situation with Lee Mack, only it's just discomfort and not rage.   
"I've never heard of that happening. I've got my fair share of people I'd like to pulverize, but no one's ever made me hate them before I met them." He says in minor shock. Yeah. It's a weird thing that happens, but I trust it enough to know to stay away from him. I doubt I'd act on it but I wouldn't be nice, either.   
"Just a weird reaction, it makes no sense. But yeah I'm stuck on that show with him and Mack. One is bad enough." I run a hand over my face a few times.   
"Mack. Lee makes everyone hate him, he's easy to hate." Greg says with a laugh. I bet he is, that's not surprising at all. "I'm going to go back in and get the pizza." He says after a minute of quiet.   
"Do you need help with it at all?" He looks at me and shakes his head before closing the car door.   
I talk way too much. He should just tell me to shut the fuck up, it's rude to ramble like I am. I close my eyes and lean my head against the now freezing cold window to try to relax. Talk less. Aaron Burr, you were truly on the right path with that thinking. Gods what do I ask him? I'm being a terrible date and he's probably going to cut it short and never talk to me again fuck that would suck. I could become a small anecdote in his stand-up. The self-absorbed woman that wouldn't shut up through the entire date. Couldn't get more than a few words in edgewise, it was as if she were on a date with herself. I could have gotten up and left and I'm sure she'd still be out there talking about herself. That would be a nightmare. Gods I have to shut the fuck up. I'm momentarily confused when Greg opens my door until I see the pizza and drinks. Right. I take them and put the drinks in their respecive holders while leaving the pizza on my lap. We wordlessly drive to our next destination and with him no longer asking me questions I focus my attention back out at the city around us and spare glances at him every few minutes. I want to say more to him, ask him more questions, but there's nothing coming to me that seems worth asking. The longer we're driving the worse it feels to continue the silence.   
'Hey can you do me a huge favour?' I nervously send this to Rob when a very weird wave of fear rolls through me. People don't ever scare me in the way of physical violence, I know I can fight or run my way out of things, but the wave that hits me is so potent that I'm compelled to ask Rob to help me feel less worried.   
'Absolutely. Are you okay?' He asks within a minute of me sending the message. I hate texting, or even having my phone out, when I'm with someone one on one because of how rude it feels. It's amusing since I abhor eye contact and use just about anything to help me avoid it.   
'I'm okay, just out doing some things. Can you text me every thirty minutes? I promise there's nothing actually wrong I just got super paranoid.' I hate sending the texts. I hate asking for help like this at all. I'm always the bodyguard friend, I get other people out of shit they don't feel safe to be apart of, I never ask for protection of my own. Greg doesn't make me feel unsafe, either, and this feeling of complete dread has come out of nowhere with no real cause.   
'Do you need me to come and get you?' He asks. No, dickhead, just make sure I don't go missing. Like I ever would.   
'No it's okay. Sorry to worry you there's nothing really wrong I just got super paranoid. I'm not in a bad place or situation I promise.' I send back. I keep sneaking glances at Greg while I type into my phone just be sure he isn't reading what I'm sending. He'd almost definitely be offended if he thought I didn't trust him. Or that I'm afraid of him.   
'Okay. Every half hour?' He clarifies. I slowly let out my air. Thank you.   
'Yaes. Thank you for being so cool, I know it's a weird ask. I owe you.' I send back. When I look back up from my phone this time I realize that Greg has pulled into a completely empty parking lot that seems to be next to a park. Not a playground for kids type of place, but a grassy area that has trees and is by a river type of park. A park? That's so profoundly corny, Greg, I didn't know people still did cliché shit like this. Gods it's such a cold night I don't think eating here would be the best idea unless you want to freeze to death out there. A park?   
'It's not weird at all, don't worry about it.' Rob send me this message, which I open and then turn my phone back off.   
"I thought you gave up on romance?" I ask him sounding very weirded out and unsure of the situation. He laughs and nods.   
"Thought I did. But I didn't want to go out to a place to be recognized and harasser the entire night. And I figured you'd assume I wanted to take advantage of you if we went to either of our homes." He explains. I close my eyes and smile. Yeah I guess that makes sense. But it's still so cold out - and I'm someone that loves the cold - this might not be the best idea. Don't be a bitch. Go with it. Right.   
"That's exactly what I thought you were going to do, I won't lie. Eating out there?" I ask him nodding towards the park. He looks towards the park, which genuinely is really pretty, and seems to realize the mistake he's made.   
"Oh god it's three degrees out there tonight." He shakes his head at himself for the mistake and I can't help but giggle again. Yeah. It really is. "I'm sorry. I didn't think this through atoll." He complains.   
"No worries. I'm not against eating in your car if you're wanting the view. Close quarters and all that." I offer. "OR, we can go to your place and eat there. It's up to you, this is your date." He nods his head and the look of regret on his face is genuinely adorable. This could be a ploy for you to be the one to suggest going to his place. Then it wouldn't be weird if he tried fucking you. He isn't that type of person. Might be devious but he isn't a complete fuckhead, and if he turns out to be then I'll kick his ass.   
"I'm not having our first date in a car, that would be complete horseshit." He says while shaking his head. Gods it doesn't have to be fancy. I've had plenty of dates in cars before, they're fun. Closed quarters, they're dark, you can play music, you can have a good view. Temperature control.   
"I mean you have a small space that makes it intimate, it's dark which gives it that edgy ambience, a view you don't have to pay for that you can change at any time, and temperature control." I repeat my exact thoughts to hopefully make him feel less terrible about the situation. He seems to come around to the idea a little bit but still looks doubtful. "We DID spend six hours sharing a bed that barely fir YOU on it, that wasn't a bad time, was it?" I ask him, looking at the back seats of the large car. Bench seat. We could sit in the back and have more room.   
"That wasn't a bad time, no. Favourite part of that was you straddling me trying to crawl over me." He returns to being amused rather than worried and irritated. I smile at him and nod.   
"Yeah that was......not my best moment. Convenient of you to offer to move over only AFTER I was on you." I mock. Could sit back there if he didn't think it was weird. "this does beg the question, what's the worst date you've ever been on?" I ask. I'll wait a minute on suggesting moving back there I think. Greg chuckles.   
"Easily the one that my grandfather walked in on me having sex." He answers. I close my eyes and cringe. That would SUCK.   
"That sounds traumatic." I say through giggles. He takes the pizza box, it's about two feet by two and very hot, but the pizza smells amazing.   
"It was. I don't know if he knew what was goin on or if he was bein a grandad but we had to sit there with her on my lap until he left." This makes me shiver, and not in a good way. Though the idea of hiding sex in plain site is somehow a thing I find hot. Like monopoly yesterday but more intense. "What about you? Worst date?" He asks. I smirk and shrug.   
"Uh....." I narrow my eyes. I haven't been on a lot of dates before and none of them went too poorly. OH. "An ex took me shooting once and spent the entire time being a dick." I answer. That was the worst date I'd had and with the worst boyfriend I'd had. He said it would be fun and I shouldn't worry about being embarrassed over not being good at it because he taught people how to shoot for a long time. This was the only reason I agreed to go with him at all since I hate guns. But he spent the hour giving me terrible instruction, insulting me for getting things wrong, and laughing if the kickback hurt me. We left that date with me wanting to kill him.   
"Shooting? You have a license for firearms?" he asks.   
"No I hate guns. I'm.....a surprisingly good shot, but I despise them. So.....were you both clothed? Or....under a blanket? How would he not have known for sure what you were doing?" I ask him. He shrugs his shoulders.   
"We were in our back garden in our clothes. The sex hadn't been planned to happen, we just slipped into that mood and took advantage of it. Probably the most romantic thing I've ever been apart of until grandad walked in. How did he berate you?" He asks. I picture a girl in her twenties with him being a bit younger than he is now, with long curly blonde hair wearing a dress that's got a sunflower pattern on it. He'd be in a black tee shirt and denim jeans. It's clear as day in my mind to picture it.   
"Uh....he'd.....hand me a gun and wait for me to assume how to hold it, then he'd all but call me stupid if I was wrong. Like.....who knew you had to hold hand guns differently? Or....I 'm right handed but my left eye is my good eye so I shoot on my left side. It was nit-picky as fuck." I mutter. "But I got revenge." I did. He's good with guns and I'm good with knives. I brought my practice butterfly knife around with me sometimes and just twirl it around absent mindedly.   
"How'd you do that? Shoot him in the back and leave him to die?" He asks sarcastically, making us both laugh.   
"He's the gun guy, but I.....love knives. Gods the more I talk the more psychotic I sound." I mutter. It's a problem with me. I collect knives, I'm good at fighting, my defense mechanism is to threaten to pick a fight with someone that's challenging me, and I am very good at being fucked up. It's how I was raised and I only ever mind it in these situations. Greg laughs.   
"You do, but it's cute. Sexy." He says. I look at him doubtfully but see, even in the dark, that he's not entirely joking. It's sexy until it's creepy. But I'll let you keep that idea in your head. "Go on. Did you cut him to death? Death by a thousand cuts." I grin at the thought and shake my head.   
"Wish I had but no. I can....there's a knife, the butterfly knife?" He nods. "He wanted me to teach him to use it, cause I use them as fidget spinners, and I just turned the tables on him with it. Call me stupid I'll make you FEEL stupid." I finish there in a rush. I do do this quite often with people that are shitty to me or others. The thing that I do, most of the time, if they're saying that I'm something I'm not, is prove them right. The best example of this is being called childish and then walking around all day exactly like a child until they apologized to me for it.   
"You're too nervous of talking too much, aren't you? Has someone done that to you? Said you talk too much?" He asks me. The question catches me off guard in that absolutely no one has ever called it before. He nods when I look at him again. "Us in our group, we make our living off talkin, yeah? So don't you worry a second bout talkin too much." He continues sounding quite serious but still managing to keep the tone light.   
"No promises there." I counter, finally taking a slice of pizza out of the box.  
"Right so I take it he wasn't a good fuckin man treating you like that. Is that the one the reason you have panic attacks?" He asks. I shake my head.   
"No that's- I never let anything get that far with guys. That's......." I shake my head again. "There was a lot to make that happen and it was a long time ago. So....you know a lot about me now, I think it's only fair you tell me about you." I steer the conversation back to it's flirty origins. I still don't want to tell him what happened to cause me to have panic attacks and that's mostly so he doesn't see me as disgusting or weak. The last person I told, my ex, went from looking at me like a badass to hugging me and looking at me like I inspire him or something. I hate people looking at me like that.   
"I've a lot to tell, what would you like to know?" He asks. Everything. Maybe not EVERYTHING, but I want to know as much as I can. You had a good story on WILTY and it genuinely made you out to be a very interesting person.   
"I dunno. What do you do outside work?" I ask. Seems like he'd be a laid back person outside of the studio, but you never really know these things for sure.   
"Not much. Read, work on the next tour set. Alex and I put our heads together for the tasks we might have on TaskMaster." He answers. So you have no life outside your job. That was HOSTILE. No no no no no I didn't mean it like that. Not at fucking all. It confirms my suspicion that they aren't that different off camera. You seem pretty dedicated to your shit. "What bout you?" I finish my first slice of the pizza, which is incredibly thin but still very good. Typically thin crusts have a lot of crunch to them, but this one isn't burnt at all almost, and the parts that are burnt are actually pretty good. Something I'd never thought I'd say.  
"Uh....." I sigh knowing my answer is quite boring. "Write, clean, watch some bullshit." I answer. Video games, walking around, climbing if I Ever get the chance again. But mostly I write.   
That's not boring atoll, it's rather normal." He argues through a mouthful of food, making me smile at him. You're adorable. Weird to think that about you being adorable, the word just doesn't fit you as a person. You're more....hot or sexy than adorable.   
"Been trying to walk around more outside so I can get used to the city." I caught the buses around the city for an entire two days. Rode to a part of the city I didn't recognize and walked around for awhile and then caught the bus again to another location. When the day ended I decided not to go home and opted to get a hotel room so I could continue the journey from where I left off. It was tedious at times, and I was definitely glad to get home, but it was also quite fun.   
"That's not a bad idea. Very good way to know you're way around by goin out and doing it." He comments.   
Yeah you're completely right on that one. I never really believed that until I had to fucking go through it on my own for the first time. Fuck that was horrifying. The incident mentioned is from my school's hometown. I can't say my hometown because it was a different town from that altogether. I'd transferred high schools from a very small school with 100 kids in it total to a school with three times that many easily. The school had been in a town that I thought I knew very well since me and my mother did all of our shopping there. When I transferred, the school had several buildings spread all over the town, three were on two city blocks while another one was across town and required a shuttle to get to. the school wasn't structured in any way and functioned as a college for high school students, which worked out extremely well for just about everyone attending. The biggest flaw for me was that I couldn't was terribly terribly agoraphobic at the time and nearly had a panic attack just trying to cross a street. It was easy to get lost trying to find the other buildings, too, which only added to the stress. By the end of the first term I knew the town better than I had at any point in the seven years I'd been going there before transferring.   
"You hang out with your friends here a lot? You all seem pretty close, it's a running gag in my family that you're all best friends off camera." I ask him after finishing another slice of pizza. When we'd watch English panel shows it was always unique from any others outside the UK because of how great everyone' chemistry is. Sure, it could be a gag or something similar, but the way they're all so comfortable with each other and have a shit ton of inside jokes makes it seem next to impossible that they'd be able to not be friends outside their shows. If they aren't then they're weaving a very intricate web of lies.   
"We enjoy each other's company, yeah. Alex is my best friend, Rob, Jon, Richard Ayoade, Rhod Gilbert, and Russell Howard are all close." I perk up hearing Russell's name.   
"Russell Howard?" I ask him. I recognize all the names, Rhod and Russell being ones that get me very excited. Rhod gives off such manic energy that he's hard to hate in what I've seen him in, and Russell is my favourite stand-up just behind John Mulaney. Greg nods to answer my question. "Baller, he's my favourite comedian, I love him. How are you friends?" After the question sits in the air between us for a few moments I get worried that he might think I'll use him to meet his friends. That was a very big worry with Rob when I came here. There were several people I wanted to meet but I never want to use a friend to get to their friends.   
"Oh all of us rotate through each other's shows. He was on TaskMaster for a season and we hit it off really well. You ever spend time with anyone other than Rob?" He asks me in return. Nope. Rob invites me to things and I accept as often as I can but no one else has gotten close enough to me to actually hang out with outside of those events.   
"No, not really good at making friends. Rhod is completely chaotic from what I've seen of him. He.....fuckin......" I shake my head.   
"You know him?" He asks.   
"No no no, but he did a documentary on shyness that really should have been.......sorry I have serious beef with this, but it should have been called generalized anxiety because that's....really that's what it was about. He had the right idea, though." I stop there so I don't start ranting about it. The documentary was the first thing I saw Rhod in, and since it was called Stand Up To Shyness, and I have big issues with being out in the world I watched it to see if it was any good and it both was and wasn't. The idea was in the right place but the execution was terrible.   
"I was in that." Greg comments. I frown at him.   
"You........were.....?" I ask him nervously. He laughs, sounding like he's having a hard time believing me.   
"Towards the end, yeah. Why don't you think it's good? I thought it summed it up really well." His answer makes me a bit irritated, but also very worried that I genuinely didn't realize I'd seen him before. I pull my phone out and search for the documentary to see if he's lying or not.   
"He kind of did but.....again this is something I'm really.....passionate about. It was just downplayed I guess? Like.....the end moral was that if you're shy, just get over it and put yourself out there and if it was good advice. Where did you say you were in it at?" I ask him. he leans over to look at the video on my phone, which I mute so it isn't super loud, and I move so I'm leaning towards him as well to let him see better.   
"About....halfway through?" He asks. I fastfoward through it as quickly but carefully as I can. "There." I stop and let the video play. Rhod's voice, which I love, is in the middle of a sentence.   
"To talk to someone that was with me at the very same comedy course that......" I tune his voice out and wait nervously to see Greg show up. "Fellow comedian Greg Davies." I pause and take a look at Greg, who is very much in the documentary. Gods I can't believe I didn't recognize him. How didn't I recognize him.   
"What the fuck? How didn't...I remember this scene, too, you were talking about how confident you both thought the other was. You'd known each other what? Fifteen years and you didn't know how bad it was for each other?" I ask him. When I look at him I realize how close our faces are and try not to get anxious about it. Ever with the pizza box on the center console we're only a few inches apart face-wise. He notices, too, which is made obvious when he looks down at my lips after meeting my eyes.   
"Yeah. I was genuinely surprised to know how bad it'd been for him. Am I just forgettable to you or somethin? You've seen me before several times but can't seem to remember." He jokes. I smirk, but the guilt makes me look away from him back at my phone.   
"You're hardly forgettable, I've no idea how I didn't remember your face. This scene alone was one I thought was......" I clear my throat trying not to dwell too much on him being so close to me. "It made a point that you never know if someone is afraid of people or genuinely confident." You don't seem like the type of person that would be super shy like you were talking about. It doesn't seem true.   
"Rhod did surprise me when he told me that. But he was much more surprised about me, I can't believe it." By now it's evident that he's staying close to me just to be provocative. Me seeing him do this makes it easier to stay where I am, since being challenged always gives me more of a reason to do something and override any anxiety that may have been there previously.   
"Rhod was easier to see it in, he seems pretty resigned, but you....." I look him up and down before meeting his eyes again and giving him a look that I hope seems devious. "I can see you not wanting to be around people, but not shy." I finish. He narrows his eyes at me and realizes that I've caught on to his game and gets quite amused with it.   
"Oh yeah?" He asks. Yeah. Maybe a bit resigned but definitely not overly shy. I will not back down from this challenge, Gregory, I refuse to lose. I don't know why I have to win everything like this but it's too much to pass up when the challenge arises.   
"Yeah." I answer. I stay close to him but look back down at my phone to see if there's anything else on it worth paying attention to. "Granted, the more confidence you exude, the less you tend to have. IE, men that think sending a picture of their dick is a good idea or talk a shit ton of shit." I mutter. I love taking those people down. Accept a challenge, make them prove their bragging, or I save the picture they send to use against them.   
"How often does that really happen? Getting pictures of their dicks." He asks. I snort.   
"Oh so often, so very, very often." I mutter, going back to my music to play that instead of trying to find a video. "Trouble is, they never use fake names or have the brain enough to make their accounts on social media private. Just go into their friends lists and find a family member, send them screenshots of the asshats and move on from there." The music I decide on, which honestly takes a couple of minutes to find, winds up being a slower playlist that matches the mood in the car.   
"You're one of those girls, then." He says quietly. I frown at him getting offended that he thinks I'm wrong in making someone regret their decisions.   
"You'll wanna clarify what you mean by that." I state matter of factly. He shifts from devious to confused. He finally leans back in his seat to actually look at my face to try to read it.  
"I mean you're a person that turns shit around on the shits everyone hates. What did you think I meant?" He asks. I clam down a bit and let myself relax just a bit. I turn so I'm sitting sideways on my seat facing him with my back to the door.   
"Not that." I answer. "But...anyways, the better version of that story is that two of the guys that have done that to me I've known personally. And you just....." I laugh. "You just have to be a special breed of stupid to be that rude to someone that knows your parents." He laughs quite loudly now, which takes the tension in the car back down again.   
"Oh god did you show their parents?" He asks.   
"One, yeah. And let me tell you, mothers will tear them apart for that shit." This is true. The guy I'd done it to had been a terrible person and that was how I knew his parents.   
"Why only the one?" He asks. YES. I love this story.   
"Kind of a longer story?" I ask him before telling it. He looks intrigued by this and nods to let me tell the story. Coolio. "So.....I had like two friends from fourth grade to- sorry age nine to about sixteen, and we got bullied a lot. Like......a LOT. We were all gamers and nerds and overweight. And one of the kids that bullied us lived right down the street from me. One of my best friends at the time was his older brother, and their mother hated me?" He looks very confused now. "That's a longer story. She hated me. But the bullying got so bad at one point for me that I'd gone home and like......fuckin lost it." This is the worst part of the story for me because it's just embarrassing. Bullying has never made me cry before or since then. "Later, we had a parent teacher thing where parents and students go in to talk about grades and shit and that teacher was a close close friend to his family. In her eyes he could do no wrong, and I don't remember what caused it or why it was brought up, but she'd....said something along the lines of 'you have to stop being so mean to Blake, he's a really nice boy' or something to that affect? I'd reported him a shit ton to the school and they never did anything about it. My mother had to step in because I so mad I almost killed that teacher. Genuinely I had a pencil in my hand that I would have put in her throat." He seems amused by this fact. "But she seemed to get it after that. She went to his mother and from what the older brother said, she'd screamed at him and his mother, then his mother screamed at him. And back then we didn't have text or anything so I got their number so I could let the mother know if he was being a shit. That's the backstory. That's why I get to be vindictive. That make sense so far?" I ask him. He nods.   
"I hated that part of teaching, taking sides in bullying. I was bullied a lot in school, too. If I saw it happen I would have to hold myself back from beating a child. I'm sorry that that happened." He offers. I shrug.   
"It wasn't just him, and that wasn't the worst of it. But fast forward three years, we're going to the same university and have a class together. And......this is going to sound really....narcissistic of me, but within that time I lost a lot of weight and was what you'd consider conventionally attractive?" He nods. "This kid, knowing full well who I was and how much I hated him, asked me for my number while hitting on me in person. The absolute balls of the kid alone was ridiculous. I'm vindictive. Terribly so. And saw this as a great opportunity to fuck with him. Took maybe four hours before I got the dick pic and rang up his mother. Asked if she had a phone that could get pictures, then sent her screen shots of the conversation. He genuinely dropped the class within two days. Have to respect that he tried that shit, though." I tack the last sentence on and take a drink so I can distract myself again.   
"Right, that's absolutely mad. Three years? You kept the mother's number for that long?" He asks me. I nod.   
"Not....purposefully? I had it in a random drawer of papers." I answer. I have a terrible habit of keeping papers when I shouldn't. I know they won't ever be useful to me but I get paranoid that they MIGHT become useful at some point. "The funny part of her opinions of me are that.....she has returned to thinking I'll burn in hell and take her dear sweet children with me." I add on proudly. Parents hate me. There's been one set of parents of all the parents 've ever met that have loved me as much as their own children.   
"I still find it terribly surprising you kept the number for three fuckin years. I haven't even had MY number for that long." He says, making me laugh harder than I typically would if anyone else had said it.   
"That sounds like a you problem, Gregory." I shoot sarcastically. He hums and nods at me before looking me over.   
"You said conventionally attractive? Why do you....how do- Why?" He asks genuinely curiously. I laugh again at the confusion since that's typically the reaction I get at that.   
"Uh......" I hate answering it, though. "Right. I went from someone no one wanted to be seen with, to a person that can SORT of turn heads but not really? Like...not hot, but pretty? Hate looks, though, this wasn't......intentional? I dunno. So how long has TaskMaster been a thing?" I ask the first question to come to mind to change the subject.   
"Bout six hears now. Twenty fifteen." He answers. I hadn't graduated, yet, and you had like two full fuckin shows. I hate you a little bit.   
"Favourite task?" I ask quickly after he answers. He has to take a minute to think about this one.   
"Ah god there's been so many. I quite enjoyed Alex's special cuddle, that was horrific. Uhm....I loved having them destroy a cake in a beautiful way, Noel put his cake in the fuckin wash." I tilt my head in confusion at this one. In the wash? Like...washer? That would kill it, right? Special cuddle. That's never a thing I could do. Hire a stripper.   
"Did anyone hire a stripper? For the cuddle? Or was it required that they be the ones doing the cuddling?" I ask him. He freezes for a moment before looking at me and grinning.   
"I WISH someone had thought of that. You'd hire a stripper to cuddle Alex?" He asks through laughter.   
"I don't like to be touched so I would have fucked off if I couldn't. Or......Fuck I'd have just about anyone ELSE do it." I answer simply. He frowns now.   
"You don't like to be touched?" I close my eyes and cringe at the slip up. Fuck I hadn't meant to say that.   
"Yeah not.....unless it's....." I sigh heavily. "My body can't tell the difference between romantic touching and normal human contact, so....I hate being touched unless it's romantically? I HATE explaining that." I mutter to myself. It's something that makes people question why I don't like to be touched, and then they think they aren't allowed to touch me. Which, most of the time I'm fine with that until it's someone like Greg who I want to be touched by.   
"That......I'm sorry. I won't make you talk about that, and I'll note that down. The tasks for the next season have already been set, if you join in I'm sorry they won't be changed for you." He says a bit guilty. I shrug.   
"Hey I like adapting. Like I said, fuckin hire a stripper. And what the fuck are those tasks? Special cuddle and destroy a cake in a beautiful way? That's......so weird. Which.....is the point, isn't it?" I ask him at the end. He nods.   
"It is indeed supposed to be weird. I thought the Alex's cuddle up. Figured the poor man might need some affection and he wound up with fuckin cake in his armpits." He almost can't finish the sentence he's laughing so hard. I almost don't think I hear him correctly, but his laughter convinces me otherwise.   
"Armpits? What? Is cuddling different here or something?" I ask him sarcastically. He's still laughing too hard to answer me, but he's nodding. I love his laugh. People when they lose their shit like this are always amazing to see and hear, even if it's a terrible laugh. You get to hear them at their happiest momentarily. "What the fuck? Can I look that up or would that be rude?" I ask him after he finally calms down. He shrugs and grabs another slice of pizza.   
"Go ahead and bring it up, it's fucking hysterical." He answers. I nod and go straight to youtube and type that in: Give Alex the best cuddle taskmaster. I get the results of several videos over ten minutes long. The first result is forty five minutes long.   
"Uh......series five epi one?" I ask him doubtfully. He thinks for a moment and then nods, to which I tap on the video.   
"I wanna see this one again, it's one of the best." We return to the position of both leaning into the center console of the car with me awkwardly holding my phone up.   
"Where in the video is it? OR....is it the full video?" I ask him. He shakes his head.   
"There's a few tasks per episode, I believe this was the first task of the series. I think....skip ahead a few minutes. I think around ten minutes in." I nod and move in to ten. "Ah. Wait, go back a few." He orders. I smirk and nod. The task seems to actually begin at around eight minutes in. Cool music.   
"Give Alex a special cuddle." An older man reads from a white paper that's been sealed with wax. LOVE the wax seal, that's great.   
"Oh no. I knew it." A girl says while looking rather displeased.   
"Most special cuddle wins. You have twenty minutes, your time starts now." I count a total of five people, two women and three men. Weird. Once they've all read the task and it sees to have been explained the video goes to Greg, the five people, and Alex on a stage.   
"Gods you're actually on a throne. How TaskMaster of you. Gods that's insufferable I fucking love it." I mutter. I pause the video just to look at him sitting on his throne. "You don't even look like a giant in that chair. But Alex is so TINY next to you. That's.......intentional. Has to be. And he's straight up, looks reserved, but you're all sass. I already wanna watch the whole thing." I shake my head while he laughs at my analyzing, then play the video again.   
"Interesting that your instinct was to presume that this is Alex's way of getting away with some kind of assault." Greg says sounding very.....authoritative. And the confidence he exudes in the role has me feeling a certain type of way sitting next to him so closely.   
"Yeah that's.....legit." I mumble quietly. Greg laughs again, and I take note this time of the fact that I can feel his breath on my neck. Her defense of his accusation is even better and has me giggling like an idiot. "Oh so they.....I'm dumb okay they all do it and the best wins." I sort of ask Greg, to which he nods. "Cool." I unpause and let the video run.   
"Nish First." Greg says.   
Nish. WHAT. The reaction isn't to his name but to his very odd introduction to the task. Alex is taller than him by what looks like a good few inches. They're both in a white room that has the walls lined with plastic. Nish walks in wearing a large blue sweater with two giant pillows tied to each side of his body. It's such a shock that I open my mouth very wide in anticipation of laughter but only get shocked silence. What in the god damn is that? That's how you cuddle, Nish? That's not a pillow, it's a couch cushion. EDGE couch cushion. Nish stands on a step to make himself taller than Alex, then has Alex lean on the couch cushion tied to his chest before wrapping a blanket around him. That's......fucked. And so weird. Why is that where your mind went? The next person to be shown is the girl that I agreed with initially stating that it seemed like the task would be sexual at some point. Though before that, they stop the task to return to the people on the stage watching the video of the task and taking it apart. Which I love to see, since it showcases what to expect.   
"Alex makes himself out to be subservient to you....you said he created the show?" I ask, pausing the video again. He nods and bites his lip in what seems to be absentminded activity that drives me a little crazy. "He's smart. Be subservient to you, you exude confidence and it makes your role seem more....uh....." I tilt my head a bit to look for the right word. "Dominant isn't the best word but I can't think of another one. Sorry to keep pausing, by the way, I'll stop." I rush.   
"Don't be it's adorable." He says with a smirk. Right. My face heats up and I'm glad it's dark out so he can't see me turning red.   
My mind isn't blown by next entry, but it does make us both start laughing hysterically. The woman, young and very attractive, shows up to the room in a box with weird circular tubes on her arms looking to be a very very broken-looking robot. Sexy Cuddle Bot. Alex looks very confused and uncomfortable the entire time, but it's what makes the situation more amusing. We get through this one and quickly move to the next once we've calmed down and stopped laughing. The next one up is the one that Greg was talking about. I know this, not because he says it, but because he returns to giggling as soon as the older woman comes on screen. I look at him suspiciously but watch. She's older and looks like she exudes sexual energy. She walks into the white room of plastic holding a chocolate cake, a water bottle, salad, and some bread. Then she has Alex lay on his back while she very awkwardly lays on top of him with full bodily contact. Greg is losing his shit but I'm just confused. She holds Alex for a few moments before grabbing two slices of bread and putting them on his face. This in and of itself is weird as fuck. Then comes the salad. The bread is removed after rubbing it on his face, and salad soon covers his eyes and neck. After this she unbuttons his shirt and stuffs slices of cake into his armpits. This is when I start to lose it a bit laughing again.   
"What in the god damn?" I exclaim through laughter.   
We laugh so hard and for so long, that not only am I crying, but my stomach genuinely hurts. This isn't something that happens to me very often that I laugh until I cry. It's happened four times in my life until now, two of them caused by something my mother had done, once from pissing myself trying to kick someone in the face and falling on my ass, and again for something that I can't remember the cause of. In this moment we are both laughing uncontrollably. I have to turn my phone off so I stop looking at the woman stuffing the cake into Alex's shirt. I haven't met Alex formally as of yet, but I know OF him. From this, I can infer that he's very comfortable in the role he plays, while being very smart and probably very fun to be around. Or at the very least he'd be interesting. After awhile of laughing that causes me to not only start coughing, but that genuinely makes my stomach hurt quite a bit, I have to put my head between my legs to try to calm down. I don't know why this helps but being in the fetal position tends to let me calm down.   
"You know what that tells me about her? That alone?" I ask Greg once we've gotten ourselves back for the most part. He nods while continuing to giggle and so I continue. "She's a kinky bitch." I state. This throws him into another full fit of laughter. The energy she gives off is full dominatrix. She took charge, she's confident in her decision, she was on top of Alex instead of either the other way around or side by side. She's a dominatrix all the way I fucking KNOW it.   
"You can tell that from that clip?" He asks me. I keep my phone off but I nod. "What in the world makes you think that? The cake?" He continues through smaller and quieter giggles.   
"She gives off that kind of energy. Dominatrix all the way. I wouldn't put CBT past her." I say with a shrug. CBT for the less sexually educated, is Cock and Ball Torture. Not uncommon in submissive men from what I've seen.   
"Cock and Ball Torture? You get that from CAKE?" Greg asks in disbelief. I shrug. I just get the feeling she's be into it. Be more surprising to me if she weren't.   
I have two skills when it comes to people. Knowing how they are in bed, and knowing the look and layout of their bedroom. The bedroom thing is something I've been able to do since I was twelve and I have NO idea where the skill comes from but I love it. I would know someone for a day and I knew just by one day with them how their bedroom looked from where their bed was in relation to the door, but where clothes were scattered and POSTERS on their walls. In one case I saw the room so clearly in my mind that I could tell him what the colour of his blankets were, where on the wall the posters were, where on the wall the door was, the single window, how wide his closet door was open - the fact that it was a folding door on the closet, and where on the floor certain shit was. I am still freaked out about that one to this day since it was so clear. In no way do I think I'm psychic, I just read people and know things about them. I used that skill to scare people into thinking I knew where they lived so they'd leave me alone. It was my favourite way to deter people from bullying me in middle school. The sex thing isn't that hard to do at all, most people can do it if they try.   
"So do you think you'd want to participate in that?" Greg asks me after we've fully calmed down and stopped laughing. I return to facing him with my back to the door and nod.   
"I think yeah. You sure you'd be okay with it? Not.....weird?" I ask him nervously. He chuckles.   
"Absolutely not. I want to see you sitting there tryin to win my approval doing trivial things. I get a lot of satisfaction from that alone. It may be forward of me to say but it would be quite sexy with you doin it." He answers while, again, looking me over. Every second that passes in the car after watching the clip of him as the TaskMaster makes me more and more horny thinking about just how hot the character was. I swallow hard while looking anywhere but at him. Yeah that would be either terrible or fun as fuck.   
"Not too forward. Like I said earlier, challenge me at your own risk." It's an empty threat but one I need to make so I don't look too easily spooked by the idea of being overly sexual on television. The thought alone makes me feel a bit sick. He'd have a blast doing that to me and he'd absolutely win, too. "And you're alright if I watch this all the way through? Cause if you don't care I'll watch the entire series by Friday." I ask him. Even without knowing how many episodes are in it I know I'd finish it in a heartbeat. Six years of a panel show can be a LOT of episodes, but it's the UK and they tend to have sub ten per season on episodes.   
"I'm fine with it, yeah. Still don't quite understand your hesitation. You said it felt creepy?" he asks me while still clearly amused. Instead of giving him the long-winded answer again I elect to just nod my head. "Weird. Right, where were we? Why did we pull that up?" He asks me. I close my eyes to backtrack the conversation.   
"Video, task, specific task, I asked you your favourite task and you answered with that and the cake." I open my eyes once I've answered, though now my brain is stuck on the cake task again. Destroy it in a beautiful way? I mean....explode it? Create a mess.   
"Right. That was a good one. Particularly enjoyed how very different people did it." He says absently. Smashing it could be fun. Smashing it........I mean destruction doesn't create anything beautiful but the process of destructING can be very beautiful. Maybe....I mean smashing it wouldn't be original at all. I think I'd have to blow it up. Explosions are the best way to get rid of things.   
"That's going to be interesting to see, I'm.....kind of excited to start it now." I pause while the car goes silent and a bit awkward.   
How long have we been out now? The pizza's gone cold and my throat hurts from talking a lot. Has to be at least an hour. How long do dates tend to last? Eating a meal for me is fast when I'm alone, but with other people it always takes a fuck ton longer from the talking. I think forty minutes for a date? An hour is a pretty good amount of time, but how do we conclude this date? I'm not hungry anymore and he doesn't seem to be, either, but we're not doing anything. We could sit here for...hours. This used to happen with car dates and while it can be fun it can also be very awkward. Kind of like it is now since the conversation died. I'm tired, my social battery is well and truly dying, and I want to go home and relax for the rest of the night. But I also don't want to do any of that because it would mean not being here anymore. I lean my head back against the window of the car and close my eyes. I like the quiet, though. Not helpful in this situation but the car's engine is nice to have in the background. If only I could grow a brain and figure out something to say to him. I can feel him staring at me while I think quietly to myself. His eyes linger on me for enough time that it feels weird but exciting and it's obvious what he's imagining while he stares at me. Rather than provide any good ideas to talk to him about, my brain decides that it's going to play the scenario in which I'm in Greg's lap making out with him again.   
"Would you like me to take you home?" He asks quietly while managing to keep his intentions for the meaning of the question ambiguous. On one hand it sounds innocent enough, but there's enough coyness in it to be suggestive as well.   
"Would you like to take me home?" I ask in return. Making decisions isn't my best quality. I hate it. Especially when it comes to these decisions. He lets out some air that isn't quite enough to be a laugh but is definitely of that intention.   
"You've no idea." He answers very suggestively this time. I can't not grin, though I keep my eyes closed.   
"Mmm, such excitement at the idea of getting rid of me, Gregory." I joke, though the idea that he does want to get rid of me is very distressing. The next thing I know, he's moved the pizza box aside and for a good few moments I think he's going to make a move on me, but this idea is gone the instant he shifts gears in the car and begins to drive. Ah. Okay.   
"I'm horribly narcistic and just can't wait for you to see the whole of taskmaster. I've got to get you home so you can begin as quickly as possible." He says teasingly. For a good second my entire body feels like it's sinking into a hole. He wants me gone. This date has gone terribly and he just wants to go home. I knew it wasn't going to work, gods I'm the worst person. I open my eyes to look at him and see that he's grinning at me. Oh you're joking. Goof. I totally knew that. His grin is contagious, spreading to my face and making me look away from him to my lap. Right. So you meant that you wanted to take me home for sex, then. That could.....that could be good. I think I'd be okay with that to be honest. I always wait and it never pays off, you're just......fuckable.   
"Right well you better hurry the fuck up, then." I shoot back with a shrug.   
Regardless of how this night goes after this it'll be okay. I want to say good but I know better than to think optimistically like that, it will jinx it. I mean....either I go home alone and start the show or I go home with him and have sex. Sex can be bad. Sex can go wrong in many more ways than it can go right. It's more likely to go wrong, actually. Shut up, let me enjoy this. When have you ever actually had good sex? I mean it's never quite gone WRONG when it's full sex. But it's never been good. You've never enjoyed it. Yeah but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it. There's only been one that I've genuinely had sex with and we all know why it was bad with him. That's not entirely wrong, but do you really expect it to get good at any point? Men don't tend to be as good as they think they are. You know people complain about sex more than they ever brag about it. That's not entirely false. But I can hope. You should be realistic. Right well I still want to hope for something better than that. If you hope for something better, you're only going to get disappointment. Shut the fuck up, I need something to think about. Sex has to be good at some point.   
"Right, well I'm a gentlemen and I like to make sure women get home safely. May I walk you to your door?" He asks me once he's parked on the street about two and a half blocks away from my apartment building. The parking in this part of the city is a nightmare, the fact that he got a car out front when he picked me up for the date is a minor miracle. I smirk and nod. Not that I need protection in any way, but you walking me to my door is absolutely just fine by me. We get out and begin the walk back to the apartment building. Blocks. Not too far, I like the walk- IT RAINING. I tilt my head back once I'm out of the car and take in the rain on my face. I love the rain. It doesn't rain as often as I thought it would here, but it truly does rain more than it ever did back home. It's my favourite almost ever to be in the rain. "Comin?" Greg asks me after a few moments. I open my eyes and nod so we can get to walking. Now I don't want to go home anymore, damnit. "I take it you enjoy rain." He says. I flinch at his hand appearing on my back, but am ultimately thankful he doesn't notice the action.   
"Yeah quite a lot. You?" I ask him without looking at him. Since he's got a hand on my back I allow myself to trust him enough to close my eyes again. It's freezing cold and has me shaking within a few seconds of being outside the car, but I don't much care about that. My body cares quite a lot of course as it tries to get me to shy away from the cold but I don't follow the instructions.   
"I don't mind it so long as I'm not in it. I hate being cold." He answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be changing my schedule to every five days instead of three because my brain is convinced three days is five now. Please forgive my sins.


	15. The Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here. This is my first smut scene so I will not be taking criticism.

"Right, you just had to start TaskMaster tonight. Research purposes, of course, not for any nefarious reasons." He jokes. Thank you. The relief is immense when he answers me. I let out my air and nod.   
"Oh of course. I don't see any other reason to watch it, do you?" I ask him cheekily. I shrug and take a step to the side to put my door code in. He leans against the wall next to it and makes me grin at the action.   
"Certainly not. I have heard the host is quite the sexual deviant." He says nonchalant. I snort, trying and failing to cover it up with a cough.   
"Guaranteed. Guy like that enjoys himself in bed for sure. I can see restraints at the very least. Might fuck on the throne but that's only on those special occasions if you do your task perfectly. But who watches a show for the host?" I open my door, but he stops me by holding it mostly shut once I've said what I said.   
"I could help you change your mind about that." He says in a tone that's such a change from the previous that I genuinely completely freeze for a couple of moments staring at him giving me a very sexually charged look. He's just a few inches from my face and all I want is for him to close that space. Think. Speak. Speak right now.   
"And how would you go about doing that?" I ask him. He narrows his eyes again before getting just a bit closer to me, turning us so my back is against the wall just to the side of the door that I still have in my hand. Yes. Yes please please do this.   
"Leave you wanting more." He says before taking a step back and grinning at me. It takes a moment for his words to sink in and my annoyance to break me out of the trance I'd been in.   
"Who says I want anything?" I ask him, and with this I give him a coy smile and disappear into the building.   
It sucks to walk away from him without so much as a kiss or a goodnight, but the victory is satisfying enough. the lobby of the building is dark enough that I know he can't see me once I'm by the elevators, which is when I turn around so see him standing there looking shocked and rather surprised. HAH. I wait against the wall to watch him away, but instead of that he stands outside the door and tries to recover from the moment. It's cute. He goes from frozen in shock with his mouth slightly ajar, to laughing at himself while shaking his head, to finally the regret of the moment hitting him and he runs a hand through his hair. Adorable. He's completely adorable, I love it. But....hot, too. He's only adorable for a few moments when the regret sets in, but a few seconds later he moves from regret to being determined and he's thrown back into being sexy and motivated. What are you doing here, still? You should go home, I'm not....turning around. Or....I guess it makes sense that you got dazed. Glad I'm not the only one dazed here. I jump when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I carefully take it out, quickly turn the brightness down all the way, and read the message.   
'You forgot something.' It says. From Greg. Gregory. Are you trying to see if I'm willing to come back for you?   
'Did I?' I send back. The intention is to be coy but I'm fairly confident it comes across as a simple question. I see him smile down at his phone and nod to answer the question.   
'Your task: come down and collect what you've forgotten from the taskmaster.' He replies. I giggle pathetically at the corniness of the text message and begin to look for a good message to send back to him. The sexiness of the message doesn't escape me, either. In fact it's the biggest reason I'm having a hard time trying to respond to him. Yes sir? That's sexy and fun. But do you really want to be stuck calling him sir from now on? I mean that's not a BAD thing, I wouldn't hate it. You wouldn't take it seriously and you know it. True. But I could say it this time as sarcasm and then walk up to my room just to buzz him in and tell him to give it to me himself or risk being charged with theft of whatever it is I'd forgotten. WAY too demanding. That sounds like a genuine legal threat. I already typed that one out as I was thinking it, but the counter thought has a good point. Fine. (Sarcasm, not serious) . I add to the end That looks stupid. True.   
'Yes sir. I live only to please you, mr taskmaster sir.' I send back without moving from my spot. He gets the message, laughs his ass off for a few moments, then starts his reply to me. Ooooh I hadn't thought you'd reply to that.   
'That's a good girl.' he sends back. This makes my legs feel a bit unsteady. No one's ever quite had that affect on me before in any way. Shaky legs. I wait a minute in full before starting back towards the door with the most confident smile I can muster up. When he sees me through the glass again he goes back to being coy and serious.   
"Woof." I say as soon as the door is open. He's confused until he realizes what I mean and laughs. "What'd I forget? I'm pretty sure I'm got everything on me." But you. He tilts his head while taking a step closer to me. I'm still mostly inside the building, only poking my head and a shoulder outside.   
"Can't finish a date without a proper kiss, can you?" He asks. The question is redundant for him to ask me since he goes from asking it to kissing me. Oh wow that was n't what I thought you'd do. Fuck. The position is extremely awkward so I stand up taller and open the door to the building more in case he wants more contact, which he fully accepts and takes advantage of. He pushes me back inside so he can push me back against the wall beside the door. I don't think he intends to make me hit the wall so hard but the movement makes me almost lose my air completely. "Shit I'm sorry are you alright?" He asks without breaking the kiss too many times. I'm fine, that's the shit I like, man. I think to myself. I don't enjoy violence with sex, or pain, but aggression is hot as fuck to me.   
Do we want this to happen right now? Actually? My brain asks me when I pull Greg closer to me so it's a bit more intense than just the kissing. Yes. Yes I do I'm sick of waiting with guys. If we fuck we fuck. I let out a small sound that resembles a whimper after he bites my lip a bit harder than expected. I don't mean to make the noise that I do, and he is very amused by it, this made obvious by his grin. When he does it again, biting my lip and pulling on it, I hold my breath so I don't accidentally make anymore noise. For a moment it seems like he's going to start kissing my neck as he's done before but luckily enough for me, he doesn't. There's nothing wrong with kissing the neck, and in fact it feels exceptional most of the time, but it doesn't fir in the situation we're currently in, despite the fact that it should. He surprises me yet again when he moves the arms ha's have around my back or against the wall beside me to my ass and pulls me rather roughly into him. Fuck don't stop doing that. Jesus you're really into this, Gregory. I think to myself upon feeling his erecting through his pants and mind. He wearing relatively tight fitting denim jeans most of he time, not that they're so tight that the erecting could be seen through them, but it's easily felt.   
We should go upstairs. He's horny , I'm horny, and we're just a few floors away from being able to fuck if we want to. Measuring things I feel without being able to see them isn't something I'm good at, but he doesn't seem to be very tiny if you get what I'm saying. Feeling that, along with him getting more and more aggressive with the kissing and groping of my ass, I want him badly. He and I continue to make out for what feels like quite awhile in the lobby of the building. The longer we do it the more nervous I get about someone walking in and catching us along with getting worried about him prolonging the kissing so he doesn't have to fuck me. Both worries fade in and out of my mind. When they're out, the moment is amazing and I'm horny enough to be barely shaking again; When they're in, it's impossible to completely focus on anything other than our surroundings. We should go before someone sees us. We'll get into trouble if we got caught, wouldn't we? You're grown ass adults, who would you get in trouble with? I don't fuckin know, do I? Random people that live here? The cops? For indecent exposure? And if you take him up, where do you think you're be screwing him? The cushions for the couch are on the floor in your nest, your bed is covered with clothes' and other shit because you don't use it, and the place you DO sleep wouldn't fit him.   
"Take me upstairs." He orders with a quiet yet demanding voice. Holy shit that's the hottest thing you've said tonight. Did you hear his voice?   
I kiss him a few more times to hold onto the moment we're in, and when I stop I nod without really thinking about it. Upstairs. You got it. I get worried about the logistics only when we get into the elevator and are thrown into light again. I'd nervously let him go and he'd grabbed my hand so I could lead him in the right direction. The lobby is almost completely dark and therefore the illusion isn't shattered until the darkness is lit up by the elevator. Once it is, the world exists again and I'm reminded that I have nowhere to do this at in my home. I need to warn him. It's messy, it's covered in shit, the bed is covered in shit and the couch's cushions aren't usable for the couch. Gods that would make it sound like I'm trying to get out of the sex with him, though, wouldn't it? He pulls me into his side when we're in the elevator and puts his arm around my shoulders so I lean into his side, which I do. What do I do? Do I tell him? If I tell him he'll at least have warning, but he could think I don't want sex but if I don't tell him and we get in there and the place is a mess that doesn't support having sex he could also be just as annoyed or as likely to leave.   
"It's a shit show in there." I warn him. Even after having cleaned and organized earlier the place is still not the best for sex. Mostly I'm worried about him thinking me crazy or weird because I sleep in a closet on the floor instead of on a bed. It's a very odd thing to do.   
"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He says seriously, making me roll my eyes. That's not in any way what I said.   
"Just....messy." I clarify. Not the worst place ever but the biggest hurdle is going to be the bed. I think it still has a bunch of shit on it, which will make it look not only weird but it will be inconvenient. I hate having room to talk in these situations it gives far too much room for embarrassment.   
"I've not a problem with that." He says simply. The elevator dings on my floor and he starts towards the apartment. By now I'm ice cold with anxiety again.   
What if there's too much shit on the bed? What if- I haven't shaved my legs. You are required to breathe at this moment. Breathe before you ruin everything. You've made a decision, own it. Right. Own it. Because saying I should own it will fix everything and make me realize my anxiety is wrong and cure everything. Fuck off I'm freaking out. By the time we reach my door, I've almost completely forgotten that I'll need to get my keys out. The reason my door is inside the overall building is because the apartments we live in used to be a hotel that got converted into apartments, which I've lived in a similar set-up before. Only here it doesn't feel like a hotel. This is being brought up because of the moronic thing that was never fixed when the hotel went under was the lighting in the hall. The only lights are at each end of the hall, so walking down the hall always seems really sketch at night, and I've only ever done it a few times. Right now, I'm thankful for it. He can't possibly see how anxious I am in the hall right now. I clumsily unlock my door after realizing that I need to get my keys out to unlock it.   
He takes me off guard a bit when he doesn't hesitate to resume almost directly where we left off downstairs as soon as the door is shut and locked again. It brings me back to where we were as if the very awkward journey up here didn't happen in the first place. The anxiety is still very real and that's the only thing reminding me that we did, in fact, take a break from making out. Both of his arms are around me pulling me against his body causing me to have to lean backwards quite a bit. I wrap my arms around his neck so I can actually reach his face with mine. Kissing him standing up is considerably harder to do than laying down. One of his hands moves up my back to between my shoulder blades while his other moves down until it's just above my ass. It feels like he wants to grab my ass but can't because I'm too short and he doesn't have the reach. The angle we're in makes my back and stomach start to hurt after a few short seconds and it's almost all I want to do to get out of it with him, but ruining the mood isn't something I'm keen on doing.   
Thank fuck. I think when he steps into me and pushes me back against the wall. It straightens my back out quite a bit though I am still tilted backwards. It's this position against the wall that lets up on the pain. The hand he has between my shoulder blades moves up until he's grabbing me by the back of my neck. It's not forceful and it's definitely not there to pull me closer into him, it just feels amazing before he gets a good grip. My neck is a huge turn on for me, especially the back of my neck. Touching it, kissing it, whatever you do it will most likely get to me. His fingers lightly running over it before settling and gently grabbing it makes me shiver against him. By now we're both panting quite loudly, which is made more obvious by the rest of the room being completely silent. Our breathing, and me hitting the door every few seconds, are the only noises in the entire apartment. The knocking on the door stops when he pulls me into him completely and starts walking us backwards towards the hallway. Eve with continued kissing while we do this it still brings my anxiety up quite a bit.   
"Which one's the bedroom?" He asks just after pushing me back against a wall by the doors and kissing me again. I don't know how to answer that with you attached to my face. The door is just behind him and to his right just a bit. I take a couple of seconds to think of how to answer him, within these few seconds he's made the decision to remove my shirt from my body. It's a shock and it dazes me for another second, but it gives me the chance to tell him. But only a very small one.   
"Behind you." I answer just in time for him to continue kissing me again.   
Shirt's off. Things are getting real now, I can't turn back. This has to happen. He steps back, pulling me into him while he does this, then he turns us around so my back is to my bedroom door. It makes me giggle pathetically when I realize he's done this to better open the door and maintain control over the moment. Once we're in the bedroom - which has the light on - he strips his shirt off and tosses it aside. In the moment I want the light off and the bed cleaned, but wishing is a pointless effort right now. Once his shirt is off he continues to kiss me while walking us both towards the bed. Shit. The shit on the bed. There's a lot of shit on it. Hard? Or sharp? No, I think it's mostly clothes, we can basically brush them off. Then do that. How do I do that? I can't see it. The line of thinking gets cut short when the backs of my legs hit the bed. He stops us, there, though, and puts both of his arms around me again. Warm. He's so warm. Gods I was really cold before, wasn't I? He takes notice of the same fact when he feels just how cold my body is in comparison.   
I let out a very odd sound feeling him unclip my bra, one that he interprets as pain for a half second that makes him hesitate to move again. It scares the shit out of me when he freezes, and to avoid having to explain the reaction I remove the bra completely and start kissing him again. He doesn't think twice about this, and moves us so we're both on the bed. I'm one of those people that hates being looked at or seen in any capacity, being naked included. When he remove his arms from around me and steps closer so I have no physical choice other than getting on the bed, I instinctively cross my arms over my chest. He doesn't take note of this, or if he does he doesn't show it, and crawls over me. At first I hate moving to the bed because he can see me, but the regret soon goes away when I see him sweeping all the clothes off the bed. It's not as if there's a shit ton of clothes coating the bed or anything, but there are a few shirts and coats. He makes it amusing to watch. The mood again shifts to that of terror for me when he gets back off the bed and unbuckles his belt.  
Gods. Gods this is actually happening right now, isn't I? He's taking his pants off, mine are next, gods will he care I didn't shave my legs? What if he doesn't like women to have any hair? You kick him the fuck out, that's what happens. I know. But I don't want it to go like that. I close my eyes to force air through my lungs and try to calm down. I've never gotten this far with someone I barely know before, and I never get this far without having an attack, either. I'm definitely on the edge of having one and that would be easily known if I simply held a hand out. The sound of his pants being unzipped and then dropped genuinely has me dangerously close to freaking out. I hide it well enough that he doesn't bat an eye when he looks at me again. His eyes are dark and his face is very serious though there's still a hint of sass to him. I tilt my head back and cross my arms again while he gets out a condom from one of the pockets of his pants. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I do just this and nothing else. My mind tries to get me to think about why I hate being touched, and how many ways this situation could go wrong, but I interrupt every one of those memories and 'what if's' with breathe. I have to chant this to myself when he starts to go for my pants. I wore black cargo pants that only have a zipper and button making them much easier to take off. I unbutton and unzip them before he takes over removing them and I help by arching my ass very awkwardly.   
"Christ your hands are cold." He says jokingly when he's rejoined me on the bed and I've got my arms around him again. The statement scares me half to death until I realize he's joking. In a very surprising and rare burst of courage, I move my hands to his sides, then lay them flat. "Fuck." He complains. It makes me laugh and helps me to calm down a bit. We continue to laugh for a few moments before he takes control and starts to kiss me again.   
If I thought I could feel his erection before, feeling it now without a layer of clothes between us makes me feel both ice cold terror and complete want. He doesn't instantly start fucking me like I'd expected him to when we got this far. Instead of this he decides to use himself to work me up again. He's using one arm to brace himself above my head and partially in my hair while the other moves over the rest of my body. He pushes my legs apart and settles between them before very slowly grinding himself against me. This time it isn't clothes, this time it's much more sexual. At first it freaks me out to feel him doing this, and for a few seconds while he does it I don't feel much of anything else. But he bites my lip hard enough to get me out of my thoughts and returning to kiss him. The hand he's got free moves down my side, then up my stomach, and landing on my breast where he starts to massage it. Typical move, but is helps me ground myself. It's unclear how long we're in this position but it feels like quite awhile. The grinding doesn't have quite the same affects on me as grinding with our clothes on and he notices this after awhile.   
We both make noise when he finally puts himself in me. He breathes out most of his air in what sounds like relief while I suck air in and hold it. Amusingly, we don't move for a few moments. His forehead is to mine with his lips just a short distance from mine, I'm hanging onto his neck while trying not to move for fear of breaking the tension and bringing attention to myself. He takes a few deep breaths, swallows quite hard, then allows himself to kiss me again. This is where my relief comes in. I can let out my air and try to relax some while he starts to slow fuck me. His size isn't monstrous or painful in any way, but it's definitely different than I thought it would be. It feels surprisingly good just what he's doing, and he's going slow as hell, too. His free hand is on my the inside of my upper left thigh holding it down against the bed in a position that's just barely uncomfortable. Within a minute I'm already worked up and trying to get more from him by pull him closer, arching into him slightly, and kissing him harder. It amuses him quite a bit. Just go faster. Please. I'm going to lose my fucking mind if you don't go faster. I think after at least another minute that stretches on for eternity.   
Instead of going faster, he puts his free hand between my legs and starts to rub me in a place that, in the moment, makes my eyes almost roll into the back of my head. I let out my air and, without realizing it, rake my fingernails down his back and sides. He grunts at the pain caused by this, which wakes me up enough to know that I've hurt him without intending to, fortunately he follows the grunt with a chuckle and scratches his free hand along the inside of my thigh before resuming the torture. He moves slowly with his hand at first, which only has me going a little bit when he starts, but when I stop reacting to it he moves faster. This happens for what feels like forever before he's moving pretty quickly and I'm shaking underneath him. No one's ever done this before. Not while also fucking me. It's truly an amazing feeling. Please please please don't stop don't fucking stop gods I know you're going to stop being you let me finish but please don't actually. The tension in my stomach is at a breaking point. My entire body is shaking and so distracted by what he's doing that I can't affectively kiss him anymore. He's taken this, while laughing at it, and moved down to start kissing my neck and shoulder.   
I begin to buck my hips against him a bit, without really knowing why, when he moves his hips faster. A second, maybe two or three, passes and I'm gone. I devolve into a puddle of shaking and gasping for air against his shoulder. I know that my nails dig into his back again though I'm not entirely sure how bad it is in the moment. He adds to the moment by grunting and letting out growls of his own that I can feel in my chest. I'm shaking for a bit until the climax passes and he removes his hand but continued fucking me. There's no break between the climax and him moving faster inside me, which makes it very hard to come down from the high at all. In fact, it's a challenge to relax at all with him not stopping. This isn't a bad thing, but it makes me let out a small moan before I bite my lip and put my face against his shoulder and neck. He lets out a small laugh between his own growling and bite my neck in what I would think is retaliation. The thought of him playfully getting revenge makes me giggle quietly to myself before letting out another quiet moan - and the only reason I moan is because I giggle and opened the door for the moan.   
"Fuck." He whispers against my shoulder just as I'm thrown over the edge again. Another few long seconds of shaking and gasping before he buries himself in me and stops moving.   
Shit. Holy shit that just happened. That was amazing. I never thought it would actually be amazing. Good, yes, but amazing? He's.....fuckin good. Or maybe I'm just that strung out? You've never been strung out enough for sex in and of itself to feel good. Not once. True. So he's just that good, then. I mean.....no one gets me to moan that should say everything right there. Greg kisses my shoulder when he bit me a few times, before starting to move up my neck and up to my face. This forces me to remove my face from his shoulder - something I didn't want to do - and kiss him again. We're both panting still, him more than me at the moment, but the kissing is calming and much slower now. Less frantic to say the least. He keeps running his thumb over the skin on my hip where he moved it a few moments before now. It tickles but it feels nice. What now? I've never done anything like this before. Date and fuck? Not once. Does he stay over, do I kick him out? If he leaves will he ever want to go out again? If he stays do we sleep now? I'm tired but I don't think I'm that tired. I got some writing done earlier so I wouldn't have to worry about that I guess. And.....I mean what the fuck do we do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like a politician breaking my promises, I'm sorry for the long wait guys please forgive my sins


	16. The After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkwardness after the smut

"You alright, darling?" He asks after awhile of us trying to catch our breaths. Great. The talking part of the night, how fantastic. I hate this part it's too awkward.   
"Oh yeah. You?" I ask, making him laugh. He removes himself from inside of me and then slowly gets off the bed. I sit up and grab the blanket to wrap around myself. He's going to ditch now. Fuck and Run. Damnit. I don't want to ask him what happens now. He'll think me stupid or realize how little experience I have.   
"You're thinking way too hard for a woman that just came two times shaking." He comments with a smirk. I blink a few times when he speaks and realize he's magically seemed to have gotten his boxers back on and has my shorts and bra held out to me. Oh. Wow I vanished for a good minute there, didn't I? I smile a very small and shy smile as I nervously take the clothes from him without looking at him. Wait. Did he just say I was shaking? FUCK I was shaking holy shit. "What's got you thinkin so hard? You're supposed to be relaxed after sex, aren't you?" He teases before sitting on the bed next to me. I pull my shorts through the blanket and then carefully put them on se no part of me is too visible to him. I shrug to answer him since words don't seem to want to work for me at the moment. "Are you alright? We didn't have- did I make you feel you had to do that?" He asks. No. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and swallow hard so I can force my voice back. I clear my throat a few times as well.   
"No. Not.....good....." I huff. "I'm not good at the after......part....." I admit angrily without looking at him. I get my bra on under the blanket and let the blanket go so it can over my lap and let the rest of me be free.   
"The after part.......are you a virgin?" He asks. I freeze in place for a moment as my brain does its best to understand the question. When it does my eyes very wide and I laugh.   
"No. Gods no......don't have the most experience in the world but no. Why, are virgins your thing?" I ask him teasingly. He goes from looking very worried and nervous matching the mood and mimicking my face. He doesn't answer within a few seconds so I cut him off before he can. "Dirty dirty fuck." I comment while shaking my head at him to feign insult. He raises an eyebrow at me before looking me up and down and narrowing his eyes.   
"I'm dirty? Coming from the woman that gets off taking orders?" He asks me. The comment makes me feel colder again, more out of embarrassment than anything else. I hate people knowing that about me. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, Love. Is that the Privileged information I wasn't allowed to know?" He asks in a coy tone. Fuck off. Gods I'm not...ashamed I'm just embarrassed. A person has one 'sir' kink and they're labeled fuckin whores with daddy issues. I hate it.   
"Not even close." I answer quietly. I try to make it coy but I'm still quite nervous about the situation, which causes my words to come out very robotic. I shake my head at myself. Trying that again. "Sorry." I clear my throat. "Sort of, but not really. Privileged information is hardly one piece of information, Gregory." I shut my mouth there and decide that it's better if I don't continue to speak. He laughs at me when I give him this answer and kisses my shoulder.   
"Suppose you're not completely incorrect. How does one get to know the privileged information? Get to know you more?" He asks. I shrug and finally let myself look at him again seeing that he's very amused with the moment.  
"That's typically how you learn things about people, yeah." I answer. He narrows his eyes at me for a moment before smiling again.   
"Then I suppose I'm goin to have to get to know you more, then." He responds in kind. I don't know why but I really wasn't expecting that. I feel my face get warm again and have to look away from him and shake my head. Have to talk. Have to move on in the conversation or it's going to get awkward as fuck.   
"I guess you will. So I'm gonna ask a question that's gonna make things awkward but......being direct is easier." I begin with a small sigh. He loses the relaxed and amused face, it being replaced with that of slight concern. Shit he's thinking something completely different than I am, isn't he? "Are you intending to stay tonight or bounce? And I ask because if you stay you'll be dealing with my inability to sleep for the next six hours." I warn. It's supposed to be a joke that's not entirely false, and it lands as such based on his reaction. He smirks at first trying to fight laughing but ultimately loses the battle and lets out a laugh.   
"I hadn't quite thought that far ahead if I'm bein honest. Do you want- "   
"Gods don't leave the decision up to me I wouldn't mind either way." I complain. People always ask me for my opinion on what I'd like to do with them and I've never at any point been good at making the decisions. This goes all the way from what we should eat to whether or not I'd like to spend time with them. He looks at me with a look that makes it known he used to be a teacher. It's a look that says I've done something wrong but he doesn't know whether or not to be angry or amused. Getting this look from him brings about my instant need to challenge his authority.   
"I should bend you over and spank you for interrupting me." He says, making me laugh and put my head in my hands. That's definitely not something I'm into. Never has been and there's a reason for this but it's a very weird reason.   
"You try that shit you'll quickly find that your face has swiftly and abruptly met the wall." I challenge. It's a hundred percent true, too. I hate being spanked. He laughs again.   
"That's the best way I've ever heard anyone say they'd have me on my ass before. I still find it quite amusing you think you'd have a chance against me. I get one fuckin hit on you I'd kill you." He says through giggles. I scrunch my face at him before raising an eyebrow at him challengingly. He continues to laugh for a few seconds before trailing off seeing how I'm looking at him. "You really think you'd have my ass?" He asks me. I shrug my shoulders and nod. "You're fuckin mental!" He exclaims. You can continue to think that, it gives me the upper hand if I ever do need to fight you. Granted I know the likelihood of that is very slim but having the upper hand is always a good option. So what now? It's like......we met at seven, the date went on for at least an hour....after driving there and back which took another hour round trip, and then the sex. It's....like.....nine thirty now? It's still so fuckin early I'll be awake at least another six hours or more. "I wouldn't mind staying, but we have just spent the weekend together. Wouldn't want you to get tired of me." He jokes. Right. That's definitely a thing that can and has happened to me before.   
"This is very possible." I comment after he gets up and continues to find the remaining clothes of his that he'd tossed aside. Seeing him leave bring my anxiety level through the roof as my mind starts screaming at me all the ways him leaving would be a terrible move on our parts.   
He doesn't want to stay here. He'll ghost you the second he gets the chance. Even if he did I wouldn't want him to stay just because he doesn't want to upset me. I'm an adult that has to deal with the possibility that not everyone wants to be around me. If he wants to leave tonight he can, I won't stop him. He could have been testing you with the answer, too. Seeing if you agree to want him gone to gauge how interested you are in having him around you. You telling him leaving might make him think you don't want him here. Fuck off, I'm not going to freak out based on that, he's been through this a few times, I think he's got at least SOME idea how to know when someone's into him. Then he hates you. Or he doesn't want to pursue a relationship. Another notch on the belt he'll use in his next show. This worries me, the idea that I might not see him again or that he genuinely doesn't like me at all. It's worrying thinking he might have just wanted a fuck and run, or he's doing this as an elaborate joke the world is putting on me to humiliate me to my core.   
"You're still thinking far too hard for someone that's just been laid." He teases again once he's got all his clothes back on. I blink a few times to remove myself from my train of thought and back to reality.   
"Get used to it." I shoot back with a smirk. He mimics it, and I grab a coat from the floor so I don't feel as awkward walking him to the front door.   
"I'd a good time tonight." He comments once the door to the apartment is open. He basically opened the door, took a step outside of it, then quickly turned around and leaned against the frame. I have the door in my hands now and use it to lean against awkwardly.   
"Same- so did I." I cringe at myself and mime shooting myself behind the door. Say something smarter than that. Don't let him leave on that note. What the fuck am I supposed to say? That's what you say at the end of the night is it not? FUCK. He looks me up and down with a smirk and this action alone makes any smart thoughts vacate my mind instantly. He does this while taking a step closer to me, and since I had to stop abruptly when he turned around in the doorway this brings him very close, and grabs my waist with one of his hands that, as we get closer, moves around to the dip in my back. Goodnight kiss. How do you forget a goodnight kiss of course. Fuck I'm stupid. Instead of kissing my mouth like I expect him to, he kisses my forehead.   
"Have a good night, Darling." He says just before leaving down the hall and closing the door behind him. I'm left standing there with my mouth open feeling a bit like he just gutted me and walked away. He didn't even let me say goodnight back to him.   
What a fuck. Told you he just wanted to get away from you. Hey, at least I got laid. It could be a good thing if he doesn't want a relationship. Even if this was just a one-off sex thing it was great. The only scenario in which this turns bad is if he did it as a joke or he's using it as a joke in the future. If either of those are true I'll hunt him down and kill him myself no questions asked. He'd be fucking dead. But back to tonight, how did he just leave like that? Pretend to kiss me and then ghost? I didn't even get to say goodnight back to him the fuck. Anything to shut you up and get out as fast as possible. Yeah. I mean it could be considered rude to just ditch like that. Not properly saying goodbye. Is it an....American thing? We say goodbye and make sure that everyone gets to? Racist fuck. NO. Fuck off, they're white primarily here anyways. RACIST. Yeah I'll admit that was a bit much, but come on there's no way it's that different here where they don't allow people to say a proper goodbye. But again.......it might be an American thing as stupid as it sounds. For once I don't flinch when my phone goes off in the bedroom. Weird but okay. I retrieve it quickly so answer whoever it was that messaged me, thinking it most likely to be either my mother or Rob - of which it is neither.   
'Have I left you wanting more?' Greg asks me. WHAT. I'm brought back to when we were talking earlier outside the entrance to the building and he just barely didn't kiss me and said 'leave you wanting more'. You shit.   
'You've no idea. Genuinely thought you were just trying to be a dick for the fuck of it.' I answer him with a smile. Alright, time to take some sedatives and try to sleep. It's early as fuck for me but they won't kick in for awhile. I say maybe eleven thirty, midnight, or not at all.   
'I'm sorry! I shouldn't have done that, it was rude.' He apologizes and I can't not grin at him.   
'It did it's job, I will give you that. But now I'm on the fence on watching TaskMaster.' I send back in a reply as I take my sedatives and grab my laptop so I can put something on in the background for noise. There's almost nothing I hate more than silence, it drives me insane.   
'But that's your task.' He replies, making me giggle. Gods you're corny as hell. I love it.   
'Spite.' I send back simply. It's true. Knowing his intention is to make me want him more and encourage me to watch the show just to get more makes me want to not do it just to spite him. 'You did day that you didn't want me getting tired of you.' I add on just to add salt to the wound. I can practically SEE him when he sends his next message.   
'You're a little shit!' He sends. Yup.   
'You can't have it both ways, Gregory. ; )' I hate using punctuation or emoticons, but sometimes I genuinely can't help it. A winky face made with the semi colon and closed bracket, not the picture but the actual punctuation to make it, is the best way to piss someone off or convey smugness across text and it is highly affective.   
'I can have you however I want.' He sends back. The message makes my stomach drop in the best way possible. Holy fuck he's still hitting on me. Holy fuck he just said THAT. Anyway he wants me? Over a table. My mind supplies me with the visual of him bending me over the bed and fucking me like that, or over the back of the couch. I don't know why I'm into that particular position since I've never actually tried it, but just the visual my mind gives me is enough to make me go warm from head to foot.   
'Oh yeah? You think?' I send back nervously. He's playing the game, I love this game. This is such a good game and it usually ends when sex starts holy shit we're maintaining. I love it.   
'You want me to come back and show you? I'll turn this fucking car around.' He shoots back. No the fuck you won't.   
'But I thought you didn't want me to get tired of you?' I shoot back with a triumphant giggle. I'm winning this argument. As submissive as I am in bed, I can't not argue in this situation it's too much fun.   
'You'll get tired, but not OF me.' He answers, making me roll my eyes despite the fact that I think it's hot.   
'Oh is that what you meant to say when you left Mr. Fuckandrun.' I send back. These are terms that are easily recognizable, but not widely used. I'm still not entirely sure if I made them up on my own or if they've been in circulation for awhile. Fuck and Run refers to having sex and immediately dipping afterwards. This isn't to be confused with a quickie, because that has to be sex that lasts less than ten minutes. Fuck and Run can last however long. Then there's the one night stand that is very widely used and not at all original. Fuck and Run is something I'm relatively confident that I made up on my own but seems like such an obvious phrase that I can't genuinely believe that I'd be the first one to come up with it. Regardless of what they mean, I'm worried that Greg won't decipher it entirely too quickly. After a minute of silence and waiting I decide to send another message. 'I'm assuming victory from your silence.' With that I set the phone down and start to open things up on my laptop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have another fanfiction about Mr. Gilbert in the works. Does anyone want it? (slow burn, but hot af smut)

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't murder me, I don't know anything about how shows work in real life.   
> If you like this, let me know and I'll get to the smut.


End file.
